


Claimed

by AmelieBella



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Drama, F/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-04-05 16:20:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 108,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4186608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmelieBella/pseuds/AmelieBella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you control Fate or does Fate control you? For Hawke, such a simple question becomes much more complicated with the addition of a Tevinter elf. Events unfold which shape her in becoming for what she was originally intended. The foundation of her beliefs will be crushed and she must decide who she wants to be when the very fabric of reality unfolds against her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress. Eventual overlap with Inquistion but for now is focused on Dragon Age 2. Many thanks to my awesome Beta Enchant, this story would not be the same without you. Please leave me your thoughts on the work as I am always looking to improve my writing. Enjoy!

Darkness…nothing but darkness. I swing my hands out in front of me blindly, feeling for anything. But there is nothing. Panic starts to set in and make my hands tremble. A peculiar sensation skitters across my skin and I shiver uncontrollably. There are voices, whispers in the dark, all around me..

"She is the one. I can feel it. Feel her power. She will be the one to set us free."

Another deeper, more doubtful voice intercedes. "She carries no lyrium, none at all. She is just another null. There is magic in her blood but there is no lyrium flowing through her, no way to harness her potential."

The first voice huffs in annoyance. "You admitted it though, it is there, the potential is there."

The second voice spoke again, clearly frustrated, "Perhaps," it concedes, "but like so many others, she will not live up to it."

Unbridled fear turns the blood in my veins to ice and I halt my movements. It is as if I stand on the edge of some great precipice with nothing but the void before me. The vision around me clears and I find myself in an unknown cave perching on the edge of a cliff, surrounded by darkness. I have been here before, many times, as the darkness below beckons to me. Heat flares out from my chest as I take the smallest of steps forward and look down into the abyss. Multiple breaths that do not belong to me inhale sharply, as if waiting. But I cannot jump, I can't even breathe. The tingling becomes stronger spreading slowly through my limbs, synapses misfiring, as I stretch a hand over that great chasm, feeling the dank warm air swirl. It feels right somehow, but I also know that, should I jump, there will be no coming back. Backing away slowly at first, I turn and run as fast as I can.

"You see," the second voice says again, trailing after me as I run, "They never live up to it. Not even her."

A whining sound breaks through my awareness. I swing in a circle listening again for the source. Something wet nudges my hand and I wake with my heart in my throat, a small gasp breaks free from my lips as I bolt upright. Quickly becoming aware of my surroundings, I let out a relieved breath and fall back on the bed. A puff of dank smelling hay wafts around me from under the threadbare sheets, my mabari whining at my side. I glance over.

"You always know when to wake me don't you?" I ask him, a smile playing on my lips. He sits back on his haunches; an ear perked and yips in reply. Knowing that sound as a confirmation I reach out and scratch him behind the ears. His eyes close momentarily until I hear my sister mumble from across the room.

"I am still trying to sleep, you know." There is a shifting sound then a sigh of exasperation, "My god, it isn't even light out yet?" She yawns. "Don't you sleep at all?"

I laugh lightly. "I'll sleep when I'm dead." _And knowing the way my life is going, that will be sooner rather than later_ , I continue silently to myself. I rise from the bed and walk over to the only chest of drawers that we both share. I hear her sigh and even with that single sound I know she is rolling her eyes. I pull out a clean pair of leggings, light leather, for ease of movement stained a dark brown, and a loose white tunic that I'll wear under my leather vest. Pursing my lips in thought, I put the tunic back in the drawer. Leaving the tunic off wouldn't hurt and it would be a whole lot cooler in this oppressive summer heat. I pull off my nightshirt in one smooth motion while my sister watches and slip into the leather pants.

"I wish you knew how you got that scar," she mutters, her voice containing a small thread of anger. Smiling halfheartedly at her I let the comment stand.

I know which scar she is referring to. Just below the bottom of my left collar bone sits a dark, pink scar in the shape of a sun. A sign of those made Tranquil. Except I'm not, or at least not in the way mages are and I am not a mage. I don't remember what happened or why. I was too young to remember, my mother says, and my father refused to comment on it, saying it was only a trivial thing. But how the burning sun of Tranquility can be trivial is beyond me.

Bethany only recently found out when we had moved to Kirkwall and were sharing the same room. Trying to explain something I didn't even understand myself was a bit of a problem. How do you explain a scar like that, especially to a mage? She is not angry at me, I know, just at the unanswered questions that seem to linger over our heads. Lying has never been one of my fortes, even if I managed to come up with a believable lie for her sake. To my surprise, she had accepted it at face value, only asking a few questions that I wasn't able to answer and has never said a word to anyone.

I button the vest where it ends just below my navel, leaving a small gap of bare skin between the edge of the vest and the beginning of my pants and admire this more comfortable if slightly revealing outfit in the mirror. My scar peaks out the side, only showing the tips of the sun's flames. I frown, wondering if this outfit is all that advisable. It will raise eyebrows and questions from my companions for sure, especially Varric. Bethany turns on her side and I hear her chuckle lightly to herself.

"What?" I ask, turning to her. Her eyes are lit up with humor, the last comment forgotten. She never could hold onto her anger for very long. My sweet little sister, she was too good and I didn't deserve her.

"You are going to catch a few eyes in that getup, especially that of the mage and former Warden that I won't mention."

I turn back towards the mirror and smirk back at my reflection. "If only that were true." I sigh rubbing the bare skin of my midsection. "Do you think I should put the tunic on? To cover up," and gesture to the area of my scar, "this?"

"I don't think anyone will be looking at _that_." she says, chuckling again. Turning back at the mirror I purse my lips. "Trust me," she says, "You will get more leers than Isabela." I raise an eyebrow in disbelief at the mirror, _like I could ever compete with that curvaceous pirate_. I go back to the drawers, intending to get my tunic back out. It would be better this way anyway. Bethany must see what I intend on doing because she speaks up again. "Just leave it," she prompts, "I'm curious to see their reactions." I sigh and close the drawer, going back to the mirror to start combing out the braid I put my hair in last night. It falls in a long ebony wave down my back.

"Well it _will_ raise questions if nothing else," I admit, grinning back at her reflection. I start braiding my hair tightly to my head to keep the long tresses out of the way.

"He does watch you, you know. Especially since Fenris joined the group," she points out, her expression becoming serious. I scowl at her mention of the elf. He was nothing but a nuisance.

"Anders has no interest, even if he does watch me like you say. He made it abundantly clear to me in our last conversation. I flirt, he immediately shuts me down, _that_ is the extent of our romantic interactions. He doesn't want me anymore than the elf does," I mutter sadly.

"Oh will you stop whining," she snaps. "You know I hate the _woe is me_ attitude. He is besotted with you, more so since Fenris arrived," she insists.

I frown. "Why do you keep saying that? Why would Fenris matter? Anyone can clearly see we don't get along."

The amused tone is back in my sister's voice. "So you keep claiming but I think that all the arguing you two do aggravates Anders, because, while you deny having an inkling of fondness towards that elf, you sure do pay a lot of attention to him."

Turning towards her and cocking a hip, my irritation with both my sister and the elf flares, "It's only because he has this incessant ability of getting under my skin. I swear he enjoys pissing me off, like it's his whole purpose in life," I complain, stamping my foot like a three-year old child. "He never stops criticizing mages or sharing his opinion on them, it is infuriating. He needs to learn how to shut his pie-hole."

Bethany is now smirking at me, "And you keep rising to the bait."

"I do not," I whine.

Her smile is now wide enough to show her teeth, "Yes you do. I think you actually enjoy it."

I open my mouth to give her a scathing remark but pause before the words come out. _Do I actually enjoy our arguments_? _There is a small part of me that actually gets off on aggravating him, but do I really do it on purpose?_

I think back to our argument yesterday when I had decided to let the apostates in the cave go even though their leader had clearly been a blood mage. For once, he had actually stayed quiet even though his disapproval was blatant, like a father scolding his child, with me being that child. But the fact of the matter was, _he_ remained silent, _I_ did not. I picked at the subject like picking a scab off his skin, wearing away what little restraint he had shown until we were shouting at each other again. While it hadn't exactly been hard to do so, I had continued long after it was necessary.

My face falls and she laughs, “I do, don't I?"

"You could do worse you know," she teases.

Jerking my head back in confusion I reply, "What is that supposed to mean? I have no interest in him in _that_ way." I tilt my head to the side in thought and admit to myself that such a thing isn't _entirely_ true, "well, other than an intense desire to beat his ass in the ground that is. He is arrogant, irritating, completely nonsensical," I mutter, ticking off his faults on my fingers. "He's a liability in battle as he insists on charging off every time, he is angrier than a shaved cat on an almost daily basis, and insists on inviting himself on all our expeditions." Bethany still watches me with a small knowing smile on her face. "And don't you look at me like that," I snap at her.

She shakes her head and lies back on the bed to stare at the ceiling, still smiling. “I wasn’t referring to any _romantic_ interest you had towards him but the fact that you would jump to that conclusion is most interesting.”

I stand there for a moment slack jawed. _Shit, why did I assume that?_ My mouth always has ways of getting me in trouble.

"Do we have enough money yet?" she asks, changing the subject.

I stutter for a moment at the switch then frown, thinking. "No, not yet, we're still six sovereigns short," I answer around a sigh.

She chews the inside of her cheek, deep in thought. A family trait since I do it as well. "Did we get anything yesterday?" she asks and glances over at me, "My nerves were shot after the Templars finally left."

I shrug, "Only a sovereign."

"Better than nothing I suppose," she says. I merely grunt in assent.

I see the sky is lightening outside and hurry over to grab my boots and pull them on. Bethany stays silent while I do so. Zeus, my mabari, rises to his feet again. He must have lain back down during our little tirade. His tail wagging as he knows I'll be going down to the docks now.

"Come get me before you go see Varric," she says and turns over onto her side away from me.

I nod, realize she can’t see it and say, "Ok, see you soon."

Walking silently through the desolate streets of Lowtown, I reflect over the last two months. Somehow, we had managed to go from a party of three: Bethany, Varric and I, to a party of …I count on my fingers…eight? _Wow, eight people, not bad,_ I muse. Amusingly enough, most of them had joined within a week of each other…well, except for Fenris, he was the last.

I never thought he would actually join us when I had offered it to him, especially not after the remarks he had made towards Anders and my sister, but for some reason, that I couldn't fathom, he was willing to tag along. Why he was willing, I still didn't know. Oh wait, that's right, he just wanted me as a means to an end to help kill his former master. Once that was dealt with he was as good as gone. How long that was going to take was another question entirely.

Until then, I would be stuck with the nonstop brooding, dark calculating looks and cretinous remarks that he just couldn't keep to himself. Carver would have gotten along with him swimmingly. I laugh to my myself, I could just see my brother unknowingly instigating a fight between the elf and I by harping on my opinions of mages and other subjects the two of us disagreed on, which was pretty much everything. On second thought, maybe it is a small blessing he wasn't here anymore. My heart gives a pang for the little brother I will never see again. While we may have never gotten along all that much when he was alive I still miss him. Carver was a pain in the ass, arrogant yet in constant need of approval, self righteous yet subordinate. My thoughts take a turn, Fenris and Carver have disturbingly similar personalities, completely different pasts for sure but a great deal of what I see in Fenris, I saw in Carver to a point. Curious, I ponder, is it possible that the elf is capable of anything but indignance?

The air is stale and oppressive as I walk to the docks. Once the sun is fully up it will be stifling but for now, it is tolerable. I glance down at Zeus who is trotting along silently at my side. He is a constant shadow at my heel, protecting me when I need it, being a quiet support when I don't. His eyes scan the streets, taking in every single person and action they make. I don't remember exactly when he made himself a part of my life, for as far back as my memories go, he has always been at my side. Frowning to myself I wonder, not for the first time, how long mabari actually live.

The sound of the waves lapping at the shore reaches my ears. Letting out a long sigh I get to the end just when the sun starts to peak its way over the horizon. I sit on my folded knees and begin my morning aubade, emptying my mind of all my thoughts and letting the first rays of the sun bathe my skin. Smiling as the last of the notes trail off in my voice, Zeus's bark brings me back to the here and now. I turn, at first thinking someone was attempting to sneak up on me but then it registers that the bark was that of greeting. Relaxing at the thought, I realize he must have seen someone he knows. Glancing around, I see no one at first but then a dark, lithe figure comes out of the shadows and the flash of white hair catches my eyes.

Fenris. What is he doing here?

I cross my arms in front of my chest and shift my weight to one foot. "You can't hide from a mabari. Especially not from Zeus," I call out, half-jokingly.

He smirks and I feel my breath catch. I've never seen him smile before, even this half- smile that he gives me now. It softens the sharpness of his features; makes him seem more humane than the arrogant uncaring façade he so often wears. His eyes pierce mine and his expression is hauntingly familiar of the way a cat approaches something it _must_ investigate but ready at any moment to bear claws if need be. The effect is startling and leaves me speechless. Suddenly I begin to notice things about him that I somehow missed before. The simple symmetry of his features, the way his markings gleam in the dawning light, or the sorrow that his eyes carry. So much pain. There is a depth of knowledge in those eyes of the depravity the world can cause that I wonder for the first time if he remembers ever being happy. I have always seen the anger and hatred glare out of him brighter than any beacon that is must eclipse every other emotion except his need for revenge. I frown at this sudden shift in my emotions, completely unsteadied by it. Fenris stares for a second, and the smirk disappears. Any sense of empathy I read from him is gone, making me wonder if I even saw it at all. But I can’t unsee what I observed and the knowledge is…unsettling. _How have I never realized how beautiful he is_? My breath comes out in a slow and steady exhalation and I push the ridiculous thought away. He comes closer; approaching me, I tense… no he is approaching Zeus.

He stoops down, coming to the mabari's level. "How very foolish of me to forget the skills of your kind," he says to my dog, scratching him behind the ears. "You have a talent unmatched and a wit as clever as any human." Zeus barks happily in reply, hopping on his front paws.

I can't help but smile. Fenris glances up at me, taking in my outfit, scrutinizing me, the way someone might study a map, leaving me somewhat bereft from his lack of emotion. The sun makes the green of his eyes bright again and I feel a tug in my stomach that I don't recognize. I blink once, then twice as he rises back up again. We are only a foot apart. He is so close that I can feel the heat emanating from his body… Or it could just be the sun heating the already dense, oppressing air as it prepares to cook us like meat on a skewer. _Get a grip Cassie_ , I berate myself, scowling more at my idiocy than at him.

"So what do you want Fenris?" I ask a little too belligerently. "Are you stalking me now? Or are you just trying to frighten me?" I say, not waiting for a reply, "Because I have to warn you I don't scare easily nor do I really care if you are following me."

His eyes narrow as he studies my face, then my jaw, my neck, my collarbone, and there his eyes stop, fixed on the place where my scar peaks out. Tingling from some unknown feeling that races through me, my skin breaks out in goose bumps and I can't stop the flush from creeping up my cheeks. _Gods what is wrong with me_? He's not even doing anything other than regarding me like I'm some kind of experiment gone awry. Shifting to my other foot, I raise an eyebrow when his eyes come up to meet mine again. Anger…yes anger helps.

"Well?" I prompt, letting the irritation show in my voice. His eyes look confused for a moment then the curiosity emerges and I groan to myself. Great now he was curious. And we all know what happened to that cat.

"How did you get that scar?" he asks, uncharacteristically calm despite my prodding.

I almost laugh. _Did he really think I was going to answer that question_? Not that I could anyway. The scar begins to tickle and I scratch it without thinking, his eyes following my movement. The only thing I do remember is the pain, fear and helplessness that came with it, nothing else. I shiver uncontrollably and I can't help but look away from his intense gaze. His head cocks to the side still waiting for my reply. Through clenched teeth I say, "I don't know."

He watches me a second longer than necessary, then looks away backing up a step. "I didn't mean to be intrusive," he says almost apologetically.

I raise my eyebrows and snort, "You didn't? Since when has offensive ignorant remarks or questions been on your 'do not do' list, because I remember some nasty comments about my actions only yesterday." His eyes flash back to mine and the slight apologetic look is now gone, a scowl taking its place. _Now there's a look I recognize_ , I think to myself.

"The decision to release those blood mages was ill advised. I can only hope your stupidity with that venture does not come back to bite us in the ass," he snaps back.

I glare at him. "If it does come back to bite us in the ass then you are more than welcome to beat me into submission next time." His eyebrow quirks momentarily at my words, "But it won't," I continue, "Not all mages are as screwed up as your _master_ was." Making sure I put particular emphasis on that word master. He hates being reminded of what he was and what he is still running from. His face contorts into something hateful and a small pang of guilt hits me in the chest. I am not normally so vindictive but he just brings out the worst in me.

"And not all mages are as sweet as your little sister!" he all but shouts. "When will you realize the corruption you surround yourself with? The abomination is already harvesting a demon in him that he conveniently calls a spirit of Justice. The fact that you actually believe that rubbish continues to confound me."

My arms fall to my sides, hands balling into fists. "Leave Ander's out of this," I hiss through my teeth.

He ignores the warning in my voice and begins to pace back and forth in front of me, hands clenched. "Then of course there is the blood mage that shows no remorse in conversing with demons and accepting their help. She is as blind as she is stupid and the fact that you continue to welcome her company proves to me just how completely heedless you are to the danger they all possess."

His scornful words finally get the best of me. I think on yesterday's argument and it only feeds the fire, making my blood hum and my fingertips tingle. I welcome it, letting that heat expand from my chest out through the rest of my body. He abruptly stops his pacing and looks at me strangely. For some reason I cannot fathom I close the distance between us so that there is only a mere six inches.

Our breaths mix as we pant out our frustrations, the tension radiating off of us in the confined space. I look up at him, memorizing his facial features like it's the last time I'll see them, as I fully intend on beating him to a pulp. His green eyes burn into mine, dark brows narrowed slightly, his white hair looks almost silver in the morning light, and his markings glisten like the ripples on the water. I am struck again by just how stunning he is. Being this close is intoxicating in a way I had never experienced before and that weird tugging sensation is back, insisting that I touch him, demanding that I close the distance between us completely.

I don't understand it, this adverse reaction. One second I want to punch him and the next... Puzzled, I raise a hand to graze it against his jaw; I expect he will back away before I can touch him. He does not disappoint me. _Coward_ , I think to myself. I sneer at him, both pleased and disappointed at the same time. He now looks as confused as I am by my actions.

The words pour from my mouth before I can stop them, "Does my touch disgust you so?"

He backs up another step, still giving me that wary, bewildered look. I think he isn't going to answer but the word "No" comes out in barely a whisper, as if it is still strangled in his throat. We are silent as we both try to decipher this sudden shift in emotion. The air between us is charged with electricity, taking the place of the rage that existed only moments before. Somehow, I know if I touch him it will awaken something I may not want. I realize I am staring at him with my arms crossed in front of my chest, like I'm already trying to stop myself from doing just that. I begin to think I must look ridiculous just standing there like I am bewitched by this elf, but then again, he is staring right back at me, his eyes never wavering. So I don't look away. I am not sure how long we stand there like that. _Seconds? Minutes_? Suddenly, he shakes his head as if coming out of a daze, then scowls at me, turns and leaves. I stare after him, baffled.

Snorting in derision I shout after him, "Well, bye then."

He doesn't respond, not that I thought he would. Zeus, having trotted away somewhere during our argument comes up to my side, nudging my hand. I look down at him. "Do you have any clue what in the void just happened?" Zeus whines back. "Yeah, me neither," I reply and start walking slowly back home.


	2. Raged and Confused

The sun's rays are heating us; roasting our skin and making us sweat, I feel filthy and cannot wait to have a bath when we get home. All day we have been out in it and despite the sun beginning to set now none of our moods have improved. I wipe the sweat dripping down my brow and glance at Bethany. She looks positively miserable, moodier than a wet cat and just plain exhausted. I should not have pushed us all so hard but I could hardly leave Feynriel to be shipped off by slavers having learnt about his location from Danzig. Varric and Bethany are eager to help, Fenris less so. He does not relish the thought of helping a mage. Although things are a little less thorny between us since I asked him to _persuade_ Danzig to give me the information I needed.

"Why exactly are we saving this mage from a slaver again?" Fenris asks. "He would no doubt do well in Minrathous, he could become an apprentice to a wealthy magister. He might even enjoy it." I am ready to snap at him but I bite my tongue, there is something in his tone that implies he is just making an observation. After a pause, he adds, "Not that I don't enjoy killing these scum."

I purse my lips into a thin line and turn around to better look at him, walking backwards. "So we can save someone from being sold into slavery, mage or not. You were a slave, Fenris; you know what it is like. Nobody deserves that and had you been fortunate enough your life could have turned out very different."

"Yeah, he'd be able to remember it for one," Varric adds with a half laugh.

"Varric that's not nice," Bethany admonishes.

I can't help it, my lips quirk for just a moment before I add, "Varric that's a low blow even for you." He lets out a sound that is somewhere between a snort and a grunt before glancing over at the elf again. Fenris gives the dwarf a menacing glare but otherwise says nothing. I turn back around.

"Doesn't work anymore elf," Varric says in reply to the unvoiced threat. "I've seen that scowl and death glare too often to be scared of it anymore. You'll need a new look." Then the dwarf's voice becomes teasing, "Maybe you could try smiling. It just might scare the pants off of me."

I can't resist. The opportunity to taunt Fenris is right there. "Might scare the pants off of me too but for another reason _entirely_ ," I say. _Oh Maker, help me_. Varric raises an eyebrow at me then glances at the elf, then back at me. I shrug in answer to his unspoken question. My sister gives a long drawn out sigh as if I am doing something wrong. I flick my eyes to her and she is shaking her head at the ground. Fenris remains unmoved.

"Now that would be a sight," Varric comments. "If you can stop half the people in Hightown today with that getup on, imagine what no pants would do. We could have our funding to the Deep Roads in a matter of hours. People would throw their money at you to see you half-naked."

I roll my eyes in response. "Well, seeing as I'm not in the business of flashing my naughty bits to people for money, we will have to go about it the old fashion way. Or you could possibly get Isabela to do it. She would garner the same attention, I imagine."

"Nah," he says, "Rivaini would make me pay dearly for that and she's already won enough of my money in Wicked Grace."

I snort, because I've fallen prey to the same thing. The pirate has probably paid for her entire room and board just with her card playing skills. Walking closer to my sister I throw an arm around her shoulders our steps matching each other. Her eyes meet mine for a moment and I hear her chuckle under her breath. "I hope you know what you're doing," she whispers. "Flirting with that elf is about as smart as baring your ass to a cornered wolf. He just might take a piece out of it."

"Hmm, yes, wouldn't that be fun," I say a little too loudly, still smiling like an idiot. _Maker, what's wrong with me?_ She looks over at me with wide eyes before glancing back at our two other companions.

"Now he's watching you," she says under her breath.

"Probably trying to listen to our conversation," I whisper back, playfully nudging her.

"Undoubtedly," she replies, and then falls silent for a minute. "But, why? Why him? I thought you and Anders…" she trails off.

I glance at her with disbelief, "Oh please Bethany, there is nothing there between Fenris and me. I'm just trying a new tactic is all."

"Well that's shameful of you. What if he actually falls for you?" she whispers to me again. I burst out laughing as if it is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, because it _is_ the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.

" _Right_. That's about as likely as smelling a fart in a windstorm," I tell her, not bothering to be quiet.

Varric trots up behind us. "What's this about smelling farts?" he asks.

I smile back at him. "Oh nothing, just girl talk." He gives me a look that says, _do you think I'm an idiot_. I still keep smiling and look away toward the path in front of us.

"You're talking about farts…" he cocks an eyebrow skeptically at us both.

I can't help but laugh. "Why, yes Varric. Sometimes we even have competitions. For longest one, worst smelling, uniqueness of sound," I reply nonchalantly.

Bethany laughs and mutters to herself, "Oh Maker."

Varric chuckles, "You are something else, Hawke."

Grinning for all I'm worth, I tell him, "I try."

Our banter is cut short by the sound of weapons being drawn ahead. "Ooh, I think we have company," I call out in a singsong voice. Instinctively, I move away from Bethany to give me room to swing my daggers. Varric moves back too and whispers something out of ear shot to the elf. Whatever he said seems to have stopped Fenris charging straight in to the thick of it.

A large group of men emerge out of the cave entrance, nine in all, armed and armored. _Slavers_. They chuckle and grin wickedly amongst themselves as they approach us. Clearly they have not heard about their friends. One of them, brandishing a large two handed sword, cuts through the men to stand at the front of the pack. He places the sword tip down into the sand, and casually leans on the hilt. He smirks at us as if we are the most unfortunate people to come across him and his crew.

"Well, well, well," he says, "What do we have here? Two women, a dwarf and an elf. You are either very stupid or very clever to have made it out here unscathed," he mocks.

I smile devilishly at him, and place my hands on my hips. His eyes roam over my body, taking in every curve of my tightly fitted leather. Not exactly the effect I was going for but I suppose it will work as well. His arousal becomes obvious, unconcealed lust burns from his eyes and I know what he has in mind for me. Ick.

His gaze shifts to my sister and he grins at the two of us. "I think I have plans for the two of you," he taunts, talking as much to his men as he is to us. "But the other two…" and he pauses as if he is actually contemplating, then waves a hand dismissively in the air, "kill 'em." The group of men, apart from the leader, converge on us. I whip out my daggers and spin them in a complicated kata.

The dwarf hefts Bianca with ease, aiming her with deadly accuracy. "I'll bet you a pint I kill more than you do Hawke."

I smile at the challenge. "You're on."

I hear a disgusted sound from behind me. "Why was I forced to wait?" Fenris asks derisively. "So I could watch the show you put on?"

I turn my head slightly, still watching the slavers approach. "I didn't put on a _show_ ," I spit back at him. "But having them see me as a piece of meat they can fuck serves as a good distraction. Not that they will live long enough to try."

One charges at me, testing our resolve. His double handed sword slashes out and I dodge his blow, following with three strikes of my own. He is dead before he falls to the ground. The rest hold back realizing we are not as weak as they had first thought.

Fenris scowls at me. "And I ask again, this is somehow better for you?" he says, contempt lacing every word.

I shrug. "It serves its purpose," I hiss back at him, "Back off." No need to tell him it wasn’t the first thought that crossed my mind when I did it. Usually bravado, especially on my part, makes most smarter men think twice. Apparently this group wasn’t very smart.

"Hawke we've got more company,." Varric's voice calls from behind me. I turn and see that seven more men have joined the fray completing a circle around us. _Ok, so not as dumb as I thought._ _._

"Well at least now it's an even number," I tell the dwarf. "Four for each of us." Varric harrumphs.

"Delightful," Fenris mutters, "Remind me to thank you later."

"I'll make sure you more than thank me," I retort. His face turns to me and for an instant our eyes meet.

"Oh for Maker's sake, will you two stop bickering. We have more important things to focus on at the moment," Bethany yells.

I turn my attention back to the approaching men. I notice a few are hanging back, crossbows in hand, readying to skewer us like the sitting ducks that we are.

"Bethany, take care of the archers and get in the center of the three of us," I call to her. "We will protect you the best we can."

I feel her move behind me, getting in the center of the loose triangle, Varric, Fenris and I, now make. She mutters something in a different language and ice shards shoot from the ground impaling two archers. A ferocious grin pulls at my face and I raise my hand, beckoning towards the lot of them. _Come get me_ , I think.

Three charge at once.

The first raises his sword bringing it down in a wide arc. I deflect the blow with a wave of my blade. The loud clash of steel on steel is deafening. I punch upward with my off hand; the force of the blow throws his head back just as my blade comes down across his neck. Blood squirts everywhere, coating my arms in a fine warm spray. His body falls limp as his two companions both come at me.

Unlatching a miasma flask from my belt, I smash it into the ground. A black billowing cloud swallows us whole. Slipping behind one silently, he jerks with surprise when my blade finds his throat. The choking, gurgling sound of his death makes me want to gag. The second is swinging his sword wildly in the smoke, coughing and hacking. The tip catches the side of my stomach, the bite of the blade stings and I hiss. It is only a nick but I curse at myself for letting my guard down.

I sink into the shadows at the edge of the cave as the cloud dissipates. I watch him search around quickly, his eyes skirting right over me, not seeing. He turns his back, heading toward my sister. She is preoccupied with a group of rogues, blowing them backward with a mind blast, she calls up fractures of ice, raising her hands with the motion, and they erupt from the ground freezing them in place. She doesn't see the approaching swordsman and he is nearly on her. With stealth my trainer would be proud of, I sneak behind him burying my blade between his shoulder blades. He falls to his knees as Bethany turns around, taking in the scene and gives me a lopsided smile.

"Got your back," I say. Her eyes focus over my shoulder. A blast of ice erupts from her hand and whizzes by my ear. I turn in time to see my _would be_ assassin get smacked square in the face, but it doesn't knock him over. I jerk my dagger from the dead man's back, flip it around and stab behind me. I feel the blade sink into flesh and the grunt of pain that follows.

Bethany's eyes meet mine, "and I got yours."

I smirk, "So you do sweet sister, so you do."

I glance around at the waning battle. Dead slavers litter the ground. Most are frozen in place with massive gashes or arrows sticking out of their lifeless bodies. The three Bethany had just frozen are now dead, limbs severed from their bodies, the wounds only a two handed broad sword could make. Varric and Fenris are fighting the last two slavers and need no help finishing them off. I bend over one of the dead slavers collecting whatever valuables I can, but I do so distractedly. My eyes are constantly drawn back to the elf. Fenris wields his blade with such grace. It is beautiful, like a dance of death. I am mesmerized by his muscles rippling under his skin, brands glowing strangely.

"There's only fifteen," Bethany shouts suddenly, just as I feel the bite of a blade prick the skin of my neck.

"Move and you die," the group leader's voice mutters.

I curse to myself. _How could I have been so careless? I was never so blind_.

He grabs me by the hair, yanking me up to his level. I stand, grunting with the pain. I feel the cold steel of his knife pierce the tender skin of my neck. Blood dribbles down in tiny rivulets, following the contours of my chest to in-between my breasts. A flick of his wrist is all it would take to end my life. But he won't. I am his only chance of getting out of here alive.

"You are stupid," he whispers in my ear, "deadly and beautiful, but stupid."

Fenris and Varric walk slowly to Bethany's side, she stands a mere five feet away from me, eyes fixed on my attacker. She is angry, her features seething.

"Try any of that magic shit on me, mage and she will die before I do," he says, yanking me by the hair in case his point isn't clear.

I squeeze my eyes shut, swallowing the pain. Hatred courses through me. I want nothing more than to see him suffer now. I curse myself again. _Why did I sheath my daggers_? _How did I let him sneak up on me_? _How did I not hear, I have ears as good as an elf. I am never so careless_. My eyes flick to Fenris and I know the reason why. I curse under my breath. Never again will he distract me.

I drop my hands to my sides, fingers searching the side of my pants. I feel the brush of hard metal underneath the hidden pocket in the leather and take a deep breath. He pulls me against him and wraps his free arm around the front of my chest. The knife stabs more painfully into my neck and I let out a small groan. More blood seeps out of the wound to trickle down my breasts. Fenris is furious, whether it's at me or the slaver still remains to be seen. Varric looks worried and holds Bianca limply at his side.

"Like that do you?" he hisses in my ear, his breath smelling of stale wine. His free hand gropes at my breast greedily. My stomach heaves and I want to vomit.

_Focus_ , I tell myself as I close my eyes, _study your opponent, and know you can get free_ , my trainer's words echo in my mind.

My eyes open and determination settles like a fire in my chest. I snake a hand behind my back and he instantly pulls the knife tighter against my throat until he realizes what I am after. His breath hitches in his throat and he groans pushing himself against me. I swallow past the lump in my throat and with my other hand grasp the flat hilt of a blade hidden on my thigh. His lips meet my throat and bite down. _Stupid imbecile, I think._ In a lighting quick motion I bury the hilt of the blade between his legs. A shriek erupts right next to my ear as he drops the knife at my neck and slumps forward. I slip out from under him before he can fall on me. He curls on the ground in the fetal position trying to protect his mutilated privates, screaming in agony.

I kick him repeatedly in the stomach as my fury refuses to let go. "Think you," kick, "could rape me," kick, "do you?" kick. He just curls up more tightly, whimpering.

I take a deep breath and then kick him one more time for good measure. I kneel next to his body. "Who's the dumb one now," I mock but he doesn't hear me. He's lost consciousness or is dead. I don't know which.

I turn around, and walk three steps before my sister runs up and hugs me. I wince from the wound in my side that I had all but forgotten about. The feel of that man's hands on my body still makes me sick, combined with the release of the adrenaline that now ebbs, my body is trembling and I think I might just lose the contents of my stomach.

"Oh you're hurt," Bethany remarks, seeing the blood on my vest. My entire body is sore, tight and bruised. Or at least it feels that way. One cut hardly seems to make a difference.

"It's nothing," I say, "just a scratch. It probably doesn't even need stitches." I am surprised by how even sounding my voice comes out, because it is not how I feel at this moment. Closing her eyes, she whispers a few words and the tingling pin pricks of her magic slide along my skin into the wound. It burns for a few moments but then it is gone and so is the wound. I sigh, "Thank you."

Fenris is livid but I have no idea who his target is. "Is he dead?" he asks.

I look back at the slaver. "If not, he soon will be."

His face twists into something malevolent, and though it isn't directed at me it is still frightening. He strides past me leaving a wave of vengefulness in his wake. The three of us look on in inquisitive silence as the elf reaches the comatose slaver, ignites the lyrium burned into his skin, reaches down, and in one wickedly gory move tears his throat out. Pieces of, I don’t want to know what, fall from his hand as he looks down with a satisfied sneer.  

_Yuck,_ _I think._ _And were it not for the look of satisfaction that crossed his features I might think it meant something. But no. That smile…that horrible sadistic sneer told me he enjoyed ripping that mans throat out. Does he imagine Denarius at the receiving end of all his attacks? Does he picture his face on every foe we engage?_ _That thought both disturbs and saddens me._ Without looking back he gets up, pulls his massive blade from his back and walks into the cave.

The dwarf looks at me with wide eyes. "I'd say that’s almost sweet if he hadn't just scared the shit out of me," Varric grumbles, then adds. "Don't tell him I said that."

I try to smile but can’t and finally settle on the reply, "Your secret is safe with me Varric." And then the three of us follow the elf in. There was still the whole Feynriel thing to take care of, after all.

After another battle with a pitiful band of slavers Fenris turns on me. He stares at me for a moment, hatred still riding him. "How could you let your guard down like that?" he snaps at me. "How did you let him sneak up on you? How could you have been so foolish?"

My jaw clenches and I refuse to look away. "I was a little distracted," I say through gritted teeth. "Don't worry, it won't happen again." I feel like a child being disciplined and the thought angers me.

He scoffs, "What could possibly distract you from protecting your own skin. There is nothing more important than that."

My eyes narrow and come up to meet his. "Do not talk to me about survival Fenris," I hiss at him. "I have done too much in the name of survival."

"Fenris leave it be," my sister says with her calm soft voice. "She has never had reason to be distracted before." Bethany knows what happened. Or at least has the sneaking suspicion what it was. And she is right.

His eyes flick to hers and his lips press into a thin line. They come back to me again. Although I still cannot understand why. Why he should care? I ask, "What's it to you anyway? I'm alive, he's dead. End of story."

His hands clench into fists at his sides and I wonder again why he is so angry. "It is not just today," he snaps. "I see it every day. You let your guard down too quickly."

I shift my weight to one foot and put a hand on my hip, scowling. "And what would you have me do, get _lessons_?"

His eyes bore into mine and I am dazzled by the beauty of his fierceness. His markings glint eerily in the light of the cavern and I feel myself drawn to him for some unknown reason. The thoughts startle me enough to make me shake my head. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , I berate myself. Now I am angry again at my own ridiculousness.

"Your recklessness will get you killed," he rebukes, I clench my fists at my side, it is all I can do to keep from hitting him. “ _Or_ it will get one of _us_ killed. Are you so quick to see your sister die?” he asks snidely.

My fury simmers and I hiss, “I have lost one sibling already. I will die before I lose another.”

He regards me scornfully. “And you think you would have learned from the death of one sibling what letting your guard down for even a moment can do.”

My rage gets the best of me looking for an outlet and I find myself screaming at him. "Do you want to know what drove me to distraction?" I ask, the revulsion and anger of my actions evident in my voice. "You, you jerk! Are you happy now?" I yell. Then before I can get another word out his head jerks to the side from the impact of an ice spell.

In one slow movement we both turn to look over at Bethany as she smiles triumphantly. “It appears Cassie is not the only one who lets her guard down,” she remarks.

Varric laughs and I smile.

“You really did ask for it elf,” Varric states. “Carver was Sunshine’s twin.

Fenris stares as his hair sticks up on one side from the snow ball that impacted the side of his head. At first I think he is going to yell, then it appears he might just storm off but then he does something that surprises all three of us, he makes a small bow in Bethany’s direction. “Anger distracted my focus and now I pay the mortifying price.” A piece of ice falls from his head to plop on the ground with a nice wet slapping sound.

I can’t help it. I laugh, only to be quickly followed by Bethany and Varric. Fenris turns, but before he can hide his face completely I see the small smile that forms on his lips. Maybe, he is not so proud after all.

Some time, and a great many dead slavers, later, I walk behind my companions. Fenris has not said a word to me since my outburst and Bethany’s ‘bitch slap’ with the ice spell and I am glad for it. The feeling that sometimes grabs me out of nowhere in his presence is completely bewildering. _I don't like him_ , I tell myself. And he will be gone before I know it. I try to distract myself from such thoughts.

Varric and Fenris walk ahead, bantering about scowls or some such nonsense. I don't pay attention, or have no desire to. I think back to all the bodies that littered the ground, all the people we killed and it makes my body shiver. Though I've had a year of servitude doing the same thing it still grates against my soul, especially now that it is essentially my choice. It's not so much the act of killing but that it's become so…easy. _At what point did my humanity slip so much that I now have no problem with leaving a pile of dead bodies in my wake?_ The blight was one thing. Those creatures weren't human nor did they have even a smidge of humanity. But killing elves, or dwarves or humans… At what point did it begin to blacken your soul?

"Stop," my sister says from my side. I look over at her and she is watching me. "Stop," she says again, "I know what you are doing. Stop feeling guilt over something you can't control. It was kill or be killed." I exhale loudly the breath I hadn't known I was holding. She reads me so easily and it brings some relief when someone as good natured as she is tells me it's ok. "They were _slavers_. They kidnap or trick people into slavery, ripping them from their families and loved ones. Their deaths are deserved."

I sigh. "But at what point do we become the bad guys? At what point are these people more misguided than actually evil?" I say to her and my stomach tightens in a knot.

Her eyes soften, "Stop," she insists. "Trust that you will know the difference. Trust in here," and she taps my heart, "You are a good person and I know it."

I scowl, but push the guilt away. "It doesn't mean I have to like it."

"And someday hopefully we won't have to. Someday hopefully our children will play together in a world free of darkness. In a world better than the one we live in today," she says as her arm slips around my shoulders. "Someday soon," she says almost wistfully. I pray that she is right.

Shadows flitter across the light peeking out of the doorway up ahead just as the muffled sounds of shouting reach my ears.

Varric looks back at the two of us. "I think word has reached them of our presence."

I pull my daggers out even though a small part of me is loath to do so and approach the doorway cautiously. We peer into the room and see…nothing, or nobody visible, at least. I frown as I look around.

"Maybe they vacated when they heard of the carnage we left behind?" Varric suggests hopefully.

"Doubtful, "mutters Fenris.

"Well there's only one way to find out," I say.

We enter, weapons drawn ready for battle. Not even five feet in, a large group emerges from behind the doorway as others converge from the side of the room that wasn't visible.

"This isn't good," Varric whispers to my side. _No shit_ , I think. There are multiple arrows targeted at us and I begin to think maybe saving this elf-blooded mage wasn't such a good idea.

"Take one more step and the boy dies," the leader says, holding a dagger to the throat of someone who must be Feynriel.

Varric shifts from foot to foot and I know he has an idea. I glance over at him. "Tell this dirt bag who we are," I say, smirking.

He smiles at me deviously and steps forward. "If I were you I wouldn't be threatening the Viscount's son."

The Slaver's face falls, if just for a moment betraying his sudden anxiety. "What?" he asks with bated breath.

"Oh, I just suppose you got a tip from a slaver that he was selling mage flesh cheap. You never thought to ask where he got it," the dwarf says snidely. I look at the ground trying to hide my smile. It amazes me how he just comes up with this stuff. "You never wondered if you were buying the Viscounts well known love child from his elven mistress. The boy he swore to protect even if it meant raising the entire Free Marches to do it."

The Slaver leader now seems ready to lose his lunch and I bite my tongue hard to keep from laughing.

"I need no war with the Free Marches, give the lad to his father." The sword however, doesn't waiver from his throat.

"Good choice," I say, mocking.

The Leader looks like he's swallowing something foul. He drops his sword and makes the circle motion with his hand to his men. "Move out," he shouts, "We are done here."

The men mutter to themselves but sheath their weapons and begin to move as one to the other entrance that leads out of the cave to the sea.

Fenris is visibly agitated, and I wonder why. Here I am relieved that we don't need to fight our way out yet it nags at me just the same. Not that the thought of battle frightens me, but that letting the slavers go may mean more lives could be taken in future. Then, like a smack in the face I have my answer. They're slavers. Fenris would want them all dead to stop them from continuing their shady work. I breathe deeply. _Oh this is going to be an argument later, I can just feel it._

We are walking back to Kirkwall, exhausted, filthy, and hungry. Varric, Bethany and I talk brightly of our soon-to be Deep Roads trip. The payment we will get from this in conjunction with what we found should be more than enough for the trip. Fenris remains silent, still seething. I sent Feynriel to the Dalish, hoping he would be safe there, and free. Since then I've gotten nothing but scornful looks from the elf. Between that and the slavers I let go, there was going to be hell to pay.

"I can't wait to see the look on my brothers face when we-" Varric is cut off.

"I can't believe you just let them go!" Fenris shouts at me.

My breath comes out in a sigh and I stop in my tracks, "I suppose you would have been happier if they were all dead now?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Yes!" he shouts back at me. "It would be one less slaver to deal with. One less slaver that could steal someone from their family."

Huffing, I roll my eyes. "That is not the reason you want them dead and you know it. You want revenge."

His hands ball into fists, his face twisting with fury and I know I'm pushing his limits. "Is that so horrible?" he yells. "Yes, I want revenge. I want them dead. I want them all dead." His voice is so full of hate that it is almost sad. He stays silent for a moment and he visibly shakes as he tries to quell his anger. His voice becomes quiet and threatening, "And you are going to tell me you didn't want that slaver who threatened to rape you dead?"

My stomach clenches into a hard knot as the memory of his groping hand makes bile rise in my throat. I stare at the ground. To say I didn't want him dead would be a lie, because I did. I wanted him dead, and I'm glad Fenris finished him off. I glance over at the elf to find him staring at me intently. "Back off," I tell him and start walking again.

He replies snidely, "You see. You're no different from me."

I stop abruptly, breathing hard. Everything inside of me screams to let it go, to keep walking, but I can't. I turn on my heel and close the gap between us, standing inches from his face. "You're wrong. If I was like you I would be locking up every mage I found, including my sister. If I were you I would be burning them all with this brand," I hiss, pulling back my vest to reveal my scar. "If I were you I would despise myself for all the blood I've spilled."

I wait for him to throw the first blow. Because that is the point we are at now. He pushes past me and there is something on his face I don't recognize, something almost resembling regret. He remains silent, walking at a quick pace back towards Kirkwall.

I run to catch up with him, not willing to let him just walk away.

"Hawke," calls Varric in warning, "Leave it be." But I ignore him.

"Not all mages are bad, you know," I shout at his back. "They are not all just one step away from becoming abominations. You can't put them all in a neat little box no matter how hard you try."

He whirls on me with such hostility that I worry for an instant that I've pushed too far again. "No?" he asks, his voice poisoned with so much venom it scares me. _I've definitely pushed him too far_. "You think all mages are sunshine and rainbows like your sister? Even she is only a whisper away from being turned into you worst nightmare."

I don't know why, maybe my temper is short, maybe I'm too tired, or maybe I've just had enough of his ignorance. I don't think. I act. I lunge at him; the only thing that allows me to hit him is his complete surprise at the attack. We fall to the ground in a heap of limbs. I land mostly on top of him, sitting on his chest and punch at him wildly, acting on all of my rage. My fist connects with his jaw and I hear him grunt. More swings which he blocks or dodges. I don't know why but he isn't fighting back. I want him to fight back. But all he is trying to do is stop me.

My frustration at his inaction gives him the opening he needs. I am not even sure how it happens but one moment I’m on top and the next I am smashed into the ground and staring up in his green eyes. His knees press into my sides but the brunt of his weight is over my thighs to keep me from kicking and he pins my hands to either side of my head. My chest is heaving with wasted breath. I try to push against him, screaming my fury but get nowhere. I am no match with him on top of me. He is bigger and stronger than I am. His face comes in close, within inches of my own, his white hair hanging over his eyes as he glares into my brown ones. We sit there like this until my breathing calms and the anger, reluctantly, dulls.

"Done?" he whispers to me. And it is something in that word that awakens another hunger I do not expect. Suddenly the air between us shifts and I realize how vulnerable I am in his grip right now. And I realize with immediate clarity, I like it. I really like it. He must feel it too because his eyes widen and just as quick he's no longer on top of me.

I sit up slowly watching him retreat to the furthest possible distance without abandoning us completely. Varric is chuckling and shaking his head as he walks after him. "Rivaini is going to love this one," he mumbles and I almost groan. Isabela was going to give me hell for this. My sister offers me a hand and lifts me up.

"Now you've done it," she says to me. I brush myself off and find the effort is wasted.

"You think he will leave?" I ask, assuming he's finally had enough of me.

"No," she says shaking her head as she watches Fenris’s retreating form. "I think you've just managed to guarantee he stays."

I sigh as we both slowly follow after Varric and the elf.


	3. Tomorrow will be Kinder

"Anders?" I call, peeking around the door to his clinic.

He sits on one of the beds on the far side of the room. His back is facing me as he leans forward, his forearms resting on his knees. He makes no motion that he has heard my voice but I enter anyway. At my footsteps, he looks up and his haggard face brightens. Mine naturally pulls into a smile as it always does whenever I see him. I am at ease in his company and so blissfully peaceful that I find myself never wanting to leave. Being in the warmth of his embrace brings about a feeling of safety and happiness, even though I know it's partially a lie. I haven't seen him for a week or so. He's been so busy with patients that I felt bad asking him for help, especially when Bethany could handle most of the minor healing.

I sit down next to him, so close the side of our legs brush. His smell envelops me, and it reminds me of our old home in Lothering. My father had a lot of the same herbs and tonics that he does, filling our house with the smell. It's also most likely the reason why I unexplainably feel safe with him even though every circumstance indicates the opposite. I could deal with the whole apostate mage thing but the third wheel of Justice...let's just say that would be a first even for me. I lean my head on his feathered shoulder and sigh.

"Tired?" he asks.

I look up at him still leaning on my comfortable perch. "Yes," I say, letting my voice show all the exhaustion my body feels.

"Varric told me you had a scare yesterday," he comments.

I immediately stiffen. For a moment I think he means Fenris and our little tiff but then I realize he is referring to the slaver that tried, unsuccessfully, to rape me. He must feel my sudden tension because his arm wraps around my shoulders and the slip of his magic sinks into me, calming me. My breath leaves in a rush and I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around his neck and press my mouth to his to erase the dark thoughts.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks. Just as quick the desire leaves me and I sit up, his arm falls away.

"No," I mutter, shaking my head once violently. "It's over. He's dead. There's nothing really to talk about."

He appears to take that at face value and changes the subject. "I heard the bastard elf was giving you problems again," he says, and I detect the small note of jealousy in his voice. _More like I am giving him problems,_ I think.

I shrug, as if it is no big deal, when nothing could be a bigger lie, "I'm beginning to become accustomed to it, at least to a certain extent," my mouth hardens. "He still infuriates me to no end and yells at me for the sheer joy of it, or so it seems." I pause. "He questions my actions, and argues with me about every decision to the point that I want to beat him senseless." I realize I'm babbling and stop. "Sorry," I tell him.

He smiles at me but it contains a hint of sadness. "It's ok," he replies. "You can tell me anything, you know that right?"

I smile close-lipped and nod. I don't want to see the hurt in his face again, even if it is disguised for my benefit. And I have no desire to think about that _elf_ anymore. That bizarre turn of events after I attacked him was reason enough for me to stay away. He already occupied more of my waking thoughts than I liked and, if last night was any indication, apparently my dreams too. My mind instantly goes back to yesterday when he pinned me to the ground and I feel my skin flush with heat that has nothing to do with the blazing sun. I bring my legs in to my chest, wrapping my arms around my knees. I need to get rid of these useless thoughts. So I do the one thing that I know will help. I aim it at someone else. Staring down at the ground, I am trying to decide if I really want to say the next words that are strangled in my throat.

"I missed you this week," I manage, the words come out soft and barely audible.

He glances at me and the look in his eyes tells me what I already know. "I can't, Hawke. Believe me when I say that I wish things were different, but I can't."

I raise my eyebrow at him, acting as if he misunderstood my intentions even though I am pushing away the small sting of his rejection. I look at my fingers, inspecting my fingernails like it's no big deal. "Someday you won't be able to resist me anymore, Anders," I cajole, then gaze up at him and smile devilishly.

He chuckles, shaking his head. I unfold myself and get up. I force myself to forget everything of the last twenty four hours, even those few intense seconds with Fenris on top. _Stop it!_

Anders gets to his feet, his body mere inches from mine. I feel his presence all around me, sinking into me and a tenseness I didn't even know was there eases in my shoulders. "You're cheating," I say around a sigh, knowing he is using his magic subtly. He chuckles again.

His hand grazes the side of my cheek with such gentleness and then pushes a strand of my black hair behind my ear. "You are tenacious," he says to me with that half smile that gets my blood pumping. "It's something I've come to count on." And while the words are innocent enough the look in his eyes is not. _Boy does he give mixed signals_ , I think to myself.

I place a hand on my hip, cocking it out as I look up at him shaking my head. "You have no idea." And I can't stop the grin that breaks across my face. He turns away laughing and I can't help but join him.

"You're coming tonight right?" I ask, changing the subject as he walks to his desk.

"I'll be right behind you," he says while turning back to face me.

Heat rises to my cheeks as a dirty thought enters my mind. I can't stop the words from leaving my mouth. "You have no idea how much I wish that were true." His hazel eyes widen momentarily followed by just a flash of the desire he keeps so well checked. I laugh as his cheeks burn. "You, ser, are in way over your head," I tell him, not waiting for a reply I turn and saunter out. "See you tonight," I call over my shoulder and close the door behind me.

A few hours later, I walk with Bethany to the Hanged Man. We decided to meet together tonight as a last hoorah before our departure tomorrow. I already spoke with Varric earlier today after we dumped the money on his brother's table. The look of complete and utter disbelief on his face had us both in stitches of laughter afterwards. We decided that we needed at least Aveline or Fenris to attract the damage and one mage for obvious reasons since Varric and I had basically the same specialty, stealth and decoy. The dwarf assumed Bethany would come since she had such a large hand in our success. Part of me wants her there and part of me wants to keep her safe no matter what, even if that means she becomes very angry with me. Ever since we handed over the coin I've had this nagging pain of anxiety which refuses to abate. I still don't know what to do and Varric has left the decision to me. The damage whore, well…that would have been an easy decision but, unfortunately, Aveline would be on guard the next five days and asking her to shrug her duty was like asking my mabari not to lick his butt. In other words, it was so not happening, which of course meant Fenris would now have to join us instead. _Why do I only know two warriors, how stupid is that?_ Luckily, Varric dealt with him so I didn't have to beg that elf to join us. To my surprise, Varric said that the elf had agreed without hesitation, which confused me somewhat. _Perhaps my sister was correct about him not being able to stay away now?_

Bethany breaks through my thoughts, "So when are we leaving tomorrow?" she asks.

I hesitate, "Bethany…" and the uncertainty in my voice must tip her off.

"Oh no," she says sternly, "You are _not_ keeping me out of this expedition. Do you hear me? I helped just as much as you in getting all of the coin together. You are not keeping me out of it now."

I clench my jaw as a slice of fear jolts through me. For some reason every time I think about letting her come my heart fills with dread. Every instinct tells me to keep her here, even if it means I need to tie her down. "Bethany," I try again.

She steps in front of me and stops me with a hand to my chest, her gaze unyielding. "You are not keeping me holed up here, _Cassandra,_ " she declares, using my full name for emphasis. Her mouth is set in a determined line and I recognize that look. It was the same one she got when she was little and I told her she couldn't do something. She always followed me and did it anyway, scaring our mother half to death. I release my held breath.

"I don't want anything to happen to you. Losing Carver was bad enough, if I lost you-" and I choke on the words, "if I lost you it would kill me." The terror seeps through in my voice and her eyes soften.

"You're not going to lose me," she says, trying to reassure me, but it does nothing to quell the fear that seeps into my pores like poison. "Besides I am safer with you than I am in our uncle's hovel where the _Templars_ can find me any day. There are days where I think the only thing that keeps them from taking me is you."

My heart starts to pound in my chest. So much of what I did was for her and for my brother when he was alive. I don't think about him much because of the guilt that always threatens to paralyze me. When the Blight had spread to consume our home in Lothering the insistent harrying need to run and get out had filled me day after day. Then my brother had returned covered in blood and other excrement and all my fears eventually came true as he died days later at the hands of an ogre. Fenris had hit too close to the truth yesterday. Had I not been so reckless and absorbed in what was going on I might have noticed Carver run off sooner, gotten there sooner, or stopped him all together. But I didn’t, and now I try to forget the haunting memory every day or the guilt will eat me alive. That same feeling plagues me now but regardless of what option I consider the fear refuses to subside.

Fate is laughing at me right now, I know it.

Bethany stares at me in earnest, silently begging me with her eyes. I try to take a deep breath and find that I can’t. It feels like an elephant is sitting there. Closing my eyes, I count to five and try to calm my fraying nerves. That fight or flight response sings through me with a rush of adrenaline that makes no sense. But I can’t say no to her, not with the look she gives me now. "Okay," I concede, praying in the same breath that everything I feel is wrong. My stomach twists into a knot and I know just as I did last time that my prayers will not be answered.

Moments later, we walk into the Hanged Man. My sister is bubbling over with happiness and excitement while I stay somber at her side. We enter and we are the last to arrive. A chorus of hellos greets us and Bethany quickly grabs the empty seat next to Anders leaving me to the only available seat next to Fenris. I sigh and all the fight leaves me. I hope, belatedly, that Fenris does not pick a fight with me tonight because I have no strength for it. This strange feeling of foreboding haunts me like a dark cloud.

Isabela sits across from me, flaunting her assets as always, especially for the elf's benefit. "So…Hawke." And by that alone I know this conversation is going nowhere I like, "I hear you had a rather interesting run in with the slavers. One got the drop on you and decided to have his way." Varric must have been embellishing again. Although, I presumed she would have been more likely to ask about the little roll in the dirt I had with Fenris. With that thought my eyes flick over at the elf and he is leaning forward, resting both arms on the table, studiously ignoring me. Typical.

Aveline tries to cut off the pirates prodding from her seat at the end of the table, "You really have no sense of decorum, do you wench."

Isabela smiles deviously down the table at Aveline, "Did your husband like your man hands or did he leave you lying cold at night while he warmed someone else's bed?"

"Isabela," I warn her, "Put a sock in it." then tilt my head to the side like a thought has just occurred to me, "Or I suppose a cock would do just as well," I tell her, which earns a few laughs from our table. Aveline, who a moment ago looked ready to have puppies, now smiles like she's had the last laugh.

The pirate turns back to me with that _I know you want to fuck me_ look that she does so well. "I fully intend on doing that, Hawke," she says, not even caring about the insult. Not that I thought she would in the first place or we'd be dueling. "But right now, I'm more curious about your little _dance_ with the slaver. Was he rough?" she asks. "Or better yet how long did he last?" Anger heats my blood and I feel my face flush in fury.

"Careful, Isabela," I warn, "You may not like where this ends up." It must be something in my voice or in my demeanor, but surprisingly, she backs down.

She's pouting at me now, "Oh Hawke, I meant nothing by it. I thought you were a little thicker skinned than Manhands over here." I sigh, and the anger washes out in a rush, leaving me feeling empty. This was not a good start to the night.

"I guess this means your little rough and tumble with Fenris is off the table too then?" she asks innocently. My cheeks instantly flush as I hear many explanations of surprise, especially from that of Anders.

"I thought you just argued?" he exclaims.

Isabela grins at the former Warden who sits next to her. "Oh it was a little more involved than that, I hear," she says, sitting back and propping her boots up on the table. I want nothing more than to just slink under the table and hide. _Oh Maker this is embarrassing_. Her gaze shifts back to mine and I know I am beet red. Fenris, who sits back in his chair, shocks me with a response to her prodding.

"Jealous?" he asks vindictively. I look over at him open mouthed.

"Insanely," she replies with a lascivious smile.

He smirks at her and my heart skips a beat. "Good," he says, but offers no further explanation. I look away in confusion at his response and stare at my hands.

"So what, you're friends now?" Anders asks, and I hear something in his voice that betrays his utter indifference in such situations, was it anxiety? I look up at him.

"I wouldn't go so far as that," I say and I am surprised at how completely lacking my voice is of emotion. From the corner of my eye I see Fenris look over at me before looking away again. I ignore him. It is better to ignore him and act like it doesn't matter. Anders sees the look and his brow furrows in thought. He says nothing more but I know there are wheels turning with thoughts he will not voice, not tonight anyway.

The evening continued on with a few rounds of Wicked Grace in which I lost way too much money. I throw my cards down in frustration one last time and say, "I'm done. No more cards for me. I still have to buy some new armor tomorrow and supplies for our expedition."

Anders looks grateful for the interruption for he asks, "When are you leaving? And who's going?"

I let out a breath as the table quiets, listening for my answer. "As to when we leave I'm guessing sometime around midday since it will probably take that long to gather everyone up." I look at the dwarf, "Am I wrong in that assumption?" Varric shakes his head no. I look back to Anders, "As far as who is going… well obviously Varric and I, and thankfully Bethany and Fenris have both also consented to go." Suddenly, that sense of impending doom crawls up my spine terrorizing me since I've now officially decided she can come. My stomach twists again and I close my eyes momentarily, trying to swallow around the lump in my throat. My chest constricts and it feels like I can barely breathe. _Why does it feel like my world is about to fall apart_? I can feel all their eyes on me as the silence stretches.

"Are you ok, Hawke?" Anders asks.

I open my eyes, and blink several times trying to push down that feeling of helplessness. I smile at him, but its fake and I know it doesn't reach my eyes, "Yeah I'm fine. Just have this strange sense that something is going to go terribly wrong," I say and shift uncomfortably in my chair. His expression of worry doesn't change. I can also see he wants to say something but not in front of the group.

"Doesn't it always?" remarks the dwarf.

I want to cower in my seat as every instinct is yelling at me to run away from this situation. But running won’t help. This is more than just simple apprehension or getting cold feet about the whole expedition. This is far beyond anything I have felt. I want to tell them all what I am feeling but stubbornly keep my mouth shut instead. _I'm just being ridiculous_ , I tell myself, _nothing is going to happen_. But that gut wrenching fear refuses to go away.

They continue their card game, laughing and drinking while I sit in silence occupied by my dark thoughts, absently running my fingertip around the rim of my wineglass. It follows the same direction of my thoughts, in an endless circle that makes no logical sense. The hum of the glass gets louder until suddenly a slim lyrium marked hand shoots out and grabs my own. My breath catches in my throat and my heartbeat quickens. It is so rare when he willingly touches me, or anyone for that matter, other than when I'm attacking him. I don't know why, but it's as if my skin feels alive with electricity and the sudden impulse to have more of his skin on mine overrides every sensible thought.

He pulls back like I burned him but the look in his eyes tells me he is battling much the same sensation I am. I have no idea what that was but the shock has me hungering for more. I fold my arms across my chest to avoid reaching out for him instinctively and stare at the table like it is the last stable thing on earth. _What was that?_ He seems as uncomfortable as I am now with our closeness even though we are no closer to each other than we were before or are to anyone else.

I glance around the table seeing that no one has noticed our interaction until my eyes fall on Anders. His jaw is set in a hard line and his hands clench the arms of the chair until his skin becomes mottled. He stares at Fenris with what can only be described as a death stare. _If looks could kill_ …His eyes flick to mine as he notices me watching and instantly softens. I smile at him lopsidedly for just a moment before looking away again.

"Sister," Bethany calls from next to Anders, "will you play a song for me?"

My mouth opens to say no until I see the look on her face. It's that puppy dog look that begs for me to placate her request. The "Not today" never leaves my mouth and I find myself reluctantly nodding yes. Her face brightens into a large smile as she runs off to grab a mandola.

_Maker save me, what have I gotten myself into now_? I have never sung in front of people for entertainment. I only sing my morning aubade without conscious thought because it is the only good memory I have of father. When I sing I feel closer to him. Greeting the sun was one of the only things we did together. It is the only connection I have with him that is wholly mine. He did not sing with Bethany or Carver, only me. Bethany knows this since she tried multiple times to join us only to get yelled at. I still didn't understand why he got so angry with her on those few occasions, the memory still perplexes me.

Moments later she's running back in with the instrument in hand. The card game pauses and all eyes fix on me.

"I didn't know you could sing, Hawke." Varric says.

I smile sheepishly, "I don't do it for entertainment value but for the peace it brings me. Doing it in front of others just makes me nervous."

Fenris' voice comes softly from beside me, "To say you sing beautifully would be an understatement." I stiffen next to him. I had forgotten he heard me yesterday morning. Sensing my discomfort he says slowly, "I would feel blessed if I could hear it again." I turn towards him and stare in disbelief. To say I am stunned at his words still would not convey the depths of emotion that now run through me and confound me. I realize I am starring at him with my mouth open and quickly close it, embarrassed. I look around the table only to see they are as shocked by his words as I am. He has never been so nice to me before.

"Well I'll be damned," the dwarf says, "I never knew Fenris was capable of making compliments."

He smirks at the dwarf, his eyes glinting, "And you've never heard her sing."

It's all he says like that is reason enough.

Varric looks back at me, "Well get on with it then. You've got us all waiting on baited breath."

My sister hands me the mandola. I play a few strings to test out the instrument. It has been a long time since I've played music while singing but my fingers float over the strings of their own accord. I stop.

"I don't know what to sing," I say anxiously.

Bethany smiles and suggests, "How about 'Tomorrow will be Kinder'." A sad smile pulls at my lips. It is her favorite song as it is the one father sang to her when her day had been particularly trying.

"Ok," I say in a whisper. My fingers pick out the notes easily enough and I close my eyes. I focus only on the music that swirls around me. Forgetting I have an audience, forgetting my apprehensions. I let the music enter my soul and my chest swells with warmth of memories long forgotten. I take a deep breath, thankful that I finally can, and sing. I sing like my father sang. Like the world didn't matter, as if time could stop and all that existed was the music. I get lost in it. Not even hearing my own voice but the emotions that cascade through my heart. At some point towards the end I realize Bethany has started singing as well and the sound lifts my spirits high. I feel lighter and more relaxed than I have in years. _Everything will be ok_ , I tell myself. _It will be ok._

My eyes open when the song is done and I hear Bethany sigh with contentment. She sits there with this blissful smile on her face and I can't help but smile with her. The rest of our group has been silent. In fact, too silent. I glance around the table at the stunned silence that stretches out.

Fenris is slumped against the back of the chair. His eyes are still closed and I think for a moment he is asleep until he inhales deeply and opens his eyes. Varric and Aveline look awed and Isabela actually brushes a tear from her eye. Anders' eyes shift between Bethany and I in varying degrees of fascination. While Merrill looks like she's been transported to another plane of existence.

Varric finally breaks the silence, "Well shit, Hawke, we could have gotten our funding overnight. All you and Bethany had to do was sing and people would fall over themselves to help you."

I let out a breath in relief. "Well maybe I should charge _you_ then. And get back some of my gambling debt," I say with a laugh.

The requests come out in droves then and I spend the rest of the night singing songs I know and learning some I don't. The entire time my eyes are constantly drawn back to Fenris who sits with a look of pure elation. His eyes are often closed, his entire body relaxed. I have never seen him so content before and the feeling that overwhelms me rocks me to my core. _Maybe I am vulnerable after all._


	4. Hurricane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The money has been gathered, the companions chosen, now the fallout begins. Welcome to the Deep Roads

This entire expedition has been one bad feeling after another, and I'm not sure why that is because up until this point it has gone rather smoothly. I mean, sure, the dragon was a _little_ unexpected but for the most part there hasn't been anything we couldn't handle. But all of us can't shake this feeling that something is going to go wrong. It feels like a persistent itch none of us can scratch or ignore. Even my usually optimistic and cheery sister has said the doomed words 'I have a bad feeling about this.' We've all said it, we all still think it. I keeping telling myself that maybe it's just because we haven't seen the Sun for a week, or perhaps it's the rations we're stuck eating or sleep deprivation, at least, I hope that's what it is., I don't like to entertain the idea of it being anything else.

My mind keeps going back to right before we left on the expedition as my mother came up and begged me not to let Bethany go, _as if I had any control over her_. However, it just seems to further my premonition of doom and press on my need to protect her. I should have just brought Anders or Merrill, although for some odd reason I keep my distance from the Dale. Not that I don't like her or think she is a bad person, I just get the oddest sensations when she is near me, as if I am being watched by someone I can't see, the same feeling I get now. _Stupid, just stupid_ , I tell myself.

Shaking my head in a vain attempt to shrug it off, I walk up to what looks like an entryway. It is unlike anything I have ever seen and I take a deep breath of the stale stagnant air, wishing forlornly for a cool breeze, or any breeze for that matter of the world above. Studying the door I frown, words written in an unknown language are inscribed along the edge of the doorway and I stare at them. An indescribable desire floods through me and I reach out to trace my fingers over the inscription. My vision blurs as my head begins to pound, my fingers tingling with pins and needles where they come in contact with the rough stone and I close my eyes to stop the pain. To my surprise, it lessens and I get the distinct feeling again that I am being observed, not by my companions but by something unseen. Whispers in the dark and the disturbing dream that has plagued me for nights on end rushes back. I jerk my hand back like it’s been stung and look down at my fingers curiously. They are as untouched as they ever were and I slowly close my hands into a fist and take a step back, looking again at the doorway.

Alarmingly, I can tell there is something more beyond this doorway; something is…waiting, almost brimming with excitement. With a surge of panic I back away as the visions of my dream plague me in a waking nightmare, refusing to be pushed aside, refusing to be ignored. I cower as if I can somehow hide as I suddenly find myself on that cliff again, realizing somewhere along the way that this was always more than just a dream, somewhere down here that chasm that I so often see in my dreams exists. Whispers, so many whispers and they are all focused on me standing on that cliff and I feel an unexplainable compulsion to jump into it. They call to me, beg me to set them free and I back up as the fear of some unknown terror overwhelms me, threatens to choke the breath from my throat.

Suddenly two cool, dry hands clasp me from behind on either side of my arms and I almost scream as the vision vanishes and I am back in front of the door again. My breath is gasping and I blink several times trying to convince myself that I am safe. The hands wrapped around my arms are long and thin and marked with lyrium. Fenris.

"Are you ok, Hawke?" his raspy alluring voice asks right next to my ear.

"Yes," I say, but it comes out hoarse and choked off.

I close my eyes focusing only on his hands wrapped around my arms, grasping onto that anchor in reality. I take a deep breath and let it out again as the tightness in my chests eases. My diminishing panic switches to bewilderment at his closeness and the way he holds me almost…tenderly. I am suddenly all too aware just how little distance there is between his body and mine. _Why is he touching me?_ I think to myself.

I clear my throat and try again, "I'm fine." My voice comes out steady this time, satisfyingly enough. "I'm…" and I hesitate on my next words, "imagining things, is all." While my tone may imply it's nothing I know it is a lie. It is far from nothing.

Still, his grasp around my biceps lingers as the heat of his breath warms the back of my neck. Closing my eyes I welcome the sensation as confusing as it may be because I cannot deny the steadiness it gives me. The last of my anxiety leaks out of me and I hear myself sigh. I feel as calm as the ocean on a windless day. Serene. Relaxed in a way I know only when I sing.

A breath I must have been holding leaves me in a sigh and my body falls back into his embrace of its own accord. He catches me reflexively then with a hiss yanks away just as quickly. I fall to the ground with an undignified oomph and hear a chuckle from somewhere behind me. Bethany, I realize belatedly.

My eyes focus slowly like I am waking from a dream. Blinking away the sleep, or in this case, fantasy, that I am beginning to realize I might actually want. He is gone now, having stalked some distance away, watching the dwarves at work mining the lyrium. His arms are folded in front of him and he is rubbing the length of his forearms with either hand again and again. Angry, I get up slowly from the ground brushing the loose dirt from my pants more in an effort to maintain some of my dignity than anything else. One thing he has succeeding in doing though, is calming my frantic thoughts. I take another deep breath, surprised and relieved that I actually can. It would not help to have a panic attack down here.

Bethany comes up from behind me standing to one side and puts a hand on my shoulder and crosses one foot over the other. I glance at her smirking face as she stares at the doorway, then my eyes flick to the place Fenris has retreated to, glaring at the ground like he could intimidate it.

"Torturing poor Fenris again, are we?" she whispers in my ear.

I raise an eyebrow in disbelief as I look back at the door without really seeing it. "Me torturing him?" and I make an amused sound in the back of my throat. "That's funny.”

Her smile widens when I glance over at her again. "You know I've been watching the two of you since we left." She pauses to look over at him surreptitiously, "He follows you. If not with his eyes then with his body. I don't even think he does it consciously, almost like he can't help himself." I give her a doubtful look. Rolling her eyes she says, "I'm only telling you what I see."

"And why are you watching him?" I ask.

She shrugs, looking up again at the doorway, "His behavior intrigues me I suppose," she says, noncommittally.

I turn towards her, curiosity getting the better of me. "Really?" I say and can’t help but tease her a little. "And what have you surmised from your carefully observations?"

Her lips purse and she chews the inside of her cheek while gazing at the elf in question. "His actions puzzle me exceedingly. One moment he appears to be completely taken with you, staring at you for long periods but often I can’t tell if it’s more out of absence of mind or just boredom. The instant you notice or he thinks that you do it's like he snaps out of a trance and his entire demeanor changes and he’s…"

"Angry," I finish for her.

She nods her head, focusing her eyes back on me.

"Yeah," I say around a sigh. "I've noticed the angry part." _Not so much the other though_ , I finish without speaking. She must be delusional; the elf can't stand me…well with the exception of our last night at the Hanged Man. That comment he made about my singing was…unexpectedly sweet.

Her eyes light up and I can see her excitement. She leans into me and whispers in my ear. "You like him, I know you do."

I frown, "No I don't," I hiss back at her which only makes her laugh.

"Ever since the night at the Hanged Man you have." My eyes widen as I turn towards her in shock. _How does she read my mind like that?_ She is still grinning at me when I realize that she might be right. My stomach twists and my heart begins to pound in my chest for no reason. "Don't worry," she tells me, "I won't tell a soul."

"Won't tell who, what?" Varric asks. I whirl towards him. My shock must give me away because the amused expression he wears instantly melts to one of concern. "Ancestors, Hawke you look like you've seen a ghost." Somewhere out of the corner of my eye I know Fenris has turned towards the three of us.

"It's nothing." my sister prompts, "just girl talk."

Varric scrutinizes the two of us like we are the world’s biggest liars. "Right," he says mischievously, "why is it when you two talk about Fenris you don't let me in on the conversation?”

 _Oh Maker, he knows too?_ I can feel the blush creeping up my cheeks as my mortification begins to reach an all time high. "What?" he asks innocently. "You thought I didn't know?" The dwarf looks over at Fenris who is looking busy doing nothing but he must be listening. _I think I’m going to be sick._ Varric continues on like the elf can't hear. "It's a good thing Bethany came instead of Anders or there would be so much bickering and jealous snarky remarks that it would make even my ears bleed."

"Oh bloody hell," is all I can say as I lift my hands to cover my face and squat to the ground, wanting to hide under a rock until this expedition is over. I hear Varric chuckle as a warm stocky hand falls on my shoulder.

"Come on Hawke," he says. "Let's see what's behind door number three," as he gestures towards the intricately carved door still standing in front of us.

Without a second thought he pushes the door open and I am left waiting for something to happen. The only thing that greets us is more foul smelling air and I can't help but think I will need to soak my clothes and my body for a week just to get the stench out.

My sister pulls me up to me feet as I stare with apprehension into the room that Varric disappeared into. I keep waiting for the disturbing feeling that I am being watched to creep up the back of my neck like something alive but it doesn't come. Frustrated, I pull my daggers out, not really expecting a fight at this point but to just give my hands something to do and calm my fraying nerves. _I am going to go crazy down here,_ is all I can think. I am beginning to understand why Anders wanted nothing to do with this place. Bethany mumbles something unintelligible beside me and a small ball of light sprouts from her hand. I raise an eyebrow at this new little trick and watch the ball of light whisk away into the dark chamber.

"Finally," Varric grumbles from inside the room.

I can just make him out in the center of the chamber atop of some dais. "Learning new spells are we?" I ask my sister without looking at her.

"Anders taught me," she says flippantly and walks into the room with our father's staff gripped in her left hand. I follow quickly after her and match her stride. I look over to find her smiling at nothing in particular.

"Anders?" I question.

Her lips quirk, "why yes sweet sister, I do talk to other people besides yourself."

"I know that," I snap, but it lacks any harshness. She glances at me, smirking still, as we walk up the stairs together to what appears to be some kind of altar. "You just never mentioned it to me is all," I say.

She shrugs and I look back briefly to see if Fenris is following us. About three steps back Fenris stands and our eyes meet for just a second before his flick away to glare at something else. I watch him for a moment more, trying to see what my sister sees. I shake my head and turn back around, annoyed at myself.

"Hawke!" Varric exclaims. "Come look at this." Curiosity peeked; I approach the altar only to look down at some kind of odd looking idol. It takes me a moment to realize it is pure lyrium and a color that is most unusual. It’s red.

The dwarf picks it up turning it around in his hands, laughing. "This is going to make us rich." He tosses it to me and, instinctively, I catch it. My entire body goes rigid as visions of blood and madness flood my mind. There are whispers, so many whispers, and they hunger. They hunger for more blood, more death. Suddenly, the scenery changes and my father stands before me. I am sobbing uncontrollable and curled in a ball of dirty white fabric sprayed with blood. I've done something terrible and I don't know what. There was fire, and children screaming, children like me. They died because of me. _Oh Maker, they died because of me._ I am so little, just a little girl and I don't understand what I've done. I am begging and pleading with him, apologizing endlessly, promising I won't do it again. I am terrified, I realize. Terrified of the brand he holds in his hands because I know what it means. It only happens to bad mages.

"But I am not a mage," I scream soundlessly.

But my father doesn't see it. Instead he looks like someone has ripped out his heart as he slowly dies inside. "Maker forgive me," he pleads and then the brand sears my skin and I know nothing but pain.

Agony, unlike any I have ever known, stabs through my chest, my heart, arcing through my body like something alive burning up everything I am. It feels like a part of my soul is being ripped away. A scream is tearing through the air and realize the voice is my own and choke it off to a moan. Just as quickly the pain vanishes and so does everything else. There is a deafening silence. I am being observed, I know, sensed on more than a physical level. I breathe heavily, my scar throbbing in time with my heartbeat. Something is poking and prodding at me. Confusion and eventually hope swells is me, but it doesn't come from me. It comes from...the idol.

Slowly, I register that my hands are still clenching the idol in a death grip but I see nothing, hear nothing but the ever extending silence. It begins softly at first, starting with one disembodied voice. " _Mother_?" it whispers and quickly it is picked up by many. "Mother, Mother," they cry. And I can hear their longing, their helplessness, and their loneliness. Their rage is gone and all I sense is sorrow and pain. Tears prick my eyes and I find myself uncontrollably wanting to help them, to somehow set them free. "Mother," the voices beg, calling to me again, "Save us Mother. Set us free," I feel the first tear break free and slide down my face.

Hands slide over my own and suddenly I am not alone anymore. I feel his presence next to me, the lyrium singing through his skin and beating against my own. His breath inhales sharply as with one mind the spirits inside me turn malevolent. "Stop" I cry to them. But it's too late.

"Kill, destroy," they whisper. And images of abuse fly through my head. But it is not my own. I am but a bystander to this cacophony of visions. And just like with me I know they are making him relive his worst pain and fears in a matter of seconds. Fenris tied up to a pole as a man with dark hair and robes whips him again and again. The vision changes to a woman with dark hair and blue eyes riding him as he lies bound to a table. He is bleeding from more than a dozen gashes, a knife brandished like a flame in her hand. Blood stains her skin like fluorescent paint and somehow I know it is all his. The vision changes again and he is writhing on the ground in agony begging for his master to stop as the dark haired, robed man smiles on, blue light flickering from his hands. He is a mage I realize. Vision after vision, I reluctantly witness the depths of the depravity Fenris has been exposed too.

"Stop," I whisper. But the spirits don't hear me. "Stop," I say more loudly and they ignore me, lost in the joy of their feeding. I am crying in earnest now, begging for them to let him go. Again they don't listen. Fear turns to anger and just as quickly I am swimming in rage. Warmth swells in my chest, beginning from my brand and lancing outward. My skin comes alive and what can only be described as power leaks into my hands from somewhere unknown. It crawls up my arms and gathers in my chest. My fury radiates adding fuel to the fire as the spirits of the idol continue mindlessly to feed on his despair.

"I said ENOUGH!" The power explodes from somewhere within me and instantaneously everything becomes quiet. My vision returns to normal and the voices are gone. Fenris stands panting in front of me, hands still holding mine as they grasp the cursed idol. His breathing slows and he turns around to walk away. I am about to be surprised by his uncharacteristic lack of response when he explodes in a line of Tevinter that I can't understand although it sounds like curses directed mostly at me. I drop the idol back onto the altar.

"What, for the sake of Andraste's tits, just happened?" asks Varric.

I might have found that funny a moment ago, but not now. I shake my head, dumbfounded. "I have no idea, Varric," I say. "One second I was here, the next second I was reliving my worst fears and then Fenris'."

Varric raises his eyebrows, "The elf's worst fears? I'd be curious to know what they are…" he says.

“Not fears,” the elf states, and by the sound of his voice he is not recovered at all. “Memories.”

I shake my head and it's like a wave crashing over me as I begin to realize just how much Fenris has had to endure. He must have no happiness in his life, no hope to grasp onto, not with his former master hovering over his head. My mind can't wrap itself around such a circumstance. My eyes meet that of the elf's and he must see my sorrow because instantly any remainder of weakness is wiped clean. He starts towards me, wrath radiating with every step.

"Don't you dare feel pity for me, _mage_ ," he spits. "I know what you are now. I should have known from the beginning." Then slowly his eyes widen first in surprise then in shear rage. His hand shoots out and grabs me around my throat, squeezing. Before anyone can react he slams me into the column. My vision bursts with stars as he lifts me in the air and screams, "Was this the plan from the beginning!? How much is Danarius paying you!? Tell Me!" He slams me into the pillar again. My head throbs as he chokes me slowly, letting my body weight do all the work. I claw at his hand but can't get a breath.

"Fenris," Bethany says, voice low with menace. "Let my sister go or so help me I will fry you where you stand." Flames leap up her arms and all it will take is one gesture from her to blast him across the room.

He drops me and I fall in a gasping, choking heap to the ground. I take one great lungful of air after another, my mind still whirling as to how exactly we got here.

Bethany has backed off her magic although she stands in front of me now, blocking my full view of the elf.

"When did he contact you?" he hisses. "Was it before or after I met you?" There is so much hatred in his voice that it hurts my heart.

“Elf, Fenris, she didn’t-”

“Don’t defend her,” he screams at Varric. The dwarf falls silent.

I gaze up at him from the ground, looking around Bethany. He stands like a vengeful god waiting for my answer. "I have never had contact with Danarius," I say carefully. "Nor will I ever, should he try." His eyes narrow, disbelieving. I feel a sudden surge of anger that he should disregard my words. "You think I lie to you," I say, voice rising as I get up with it. "I do have honor as much as you may not believe it."

"Mages have no honor," he sneers.

I step around my sister fury building with every step until I am face to face with him. "I am not a mage!" I yell.

"Then I am not an elf," he mocks.

We are both staring each other down like that will actually solve the problem until Varric holds up a hand and says. "Whoa, whoa ,whoa, back the horse up. Why exactly is Hawke a mage?" he says in confusion.

"She pulled the lyrium from my skin and used it to push out those…things" and he looks to the idol, disgusted, "so they would stop-" and the words cut off like he is going to say more than thought better of it.

Varric's eyes widen. " _Oookaaay_ ," he says after a breath. "This is a little heavy." And I hear him add to himself, "and I don't have my journal to record it, damn."

"What do you mean she pulled the lyrium?" Bethany asks, bewildered and concerned. She looks back at me strangely and for the first time in a while I cannot tell what she is thinking.

Fenris looks at her and for a few moments I think he is going to ignore her. Finally, he crosses his arms over his chest and glares at her. "I am a mages play thing, didn't you know?" he retorts. While the words themselves seem harmless the voice that says them holds so much contempt that it's alarming. However, if he thought that would throw Bethany off from asking him anymore he is sadly mistaken.

"How so?" she asks, clearly curious.

His face twists into something malicious. "You think I would tell you that, mage?"

My sister becomes disgruntled. "You will need to trust someone sometime, Fenris."

"That's doubtful."

She rolls her eyes and glances over at me. "Why you have even the slightest interest in him romantically is beyond me," she huffs and walks down the stairs to stand in the doorway.

Now that I'm completely mortified yet again, I decide to turn my back on my remaining companions and go to sit at the bottom of the stairs. I pull out my pack and start organizing it, even though I organized it only this morning, but I desperately need something to distract me from all this crap.

It was probably the lyrium in that damn idol. It must be contaminated somehow. Why else would I see all those horrible visions? _Memories_ , my mind wants to say. _No, No, not memories_. Panic strangles me and I suddenly feel like I am in Fenris' vice like grip again. _They can't be real. They aren't real_ , I tell myself. _It's not possible,_ and I feel my sanity slipping _. No. My father wouldn't do that to me. He never hurt me. He would never make me Tranquil, not his own daughter. No._

I am rocking where I sit on the stairs, hyperventilating. Tears must have started running down my cheeks because I taste them on my lips. My bag is long forgotten as reality shifts and I deny what I've seen. I'm snapping, I realize. It would be so easy. If I don’t stop soon I will pass out.

Then I hear voices. Bartrand is coming toward the vault. _Pull it together_ , I tell myself. _You can cry later_. I stop my rocking and ball my hands into fists so tight that my skin mottles. _They will not see me cry. I will not breakdown, not now,_ I repeat it to myself again and the mantra helps strengthen my resolve. I am able to push away the horrible thoughts, and thankfully no one knows them but me. Not even Fenris. My sister comes to sit near me and wraps her arm in mine; she looks lost in thought, but says nothing.

I wipe my face just as Bartrand walks in the door.

"Brother," Varric jeers, "You will not believe what we've found." The idol whips past my head and falls into Bartrand's hands. _You can't give it to him,_ I think. _It should be destroyed_. Varric's brother's eyes light up and slowly his face changes. He looks strange and glances up at his younger brother and smiles, "Yes you have found something Varric," he says. "You have found something quite valuable indeed."

Just when I think things couldn't get any worse he closes the one way door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most chapters have a particular song tied to them that either directly relates to whats going on in Hawkes head or events in general. This one is Hurricane by Ms MR. I hope you enjoyed the latest installement. Part 2 of the deep roads trip coming next week. In the mean time please leave your thoughts on what you think so far. I greatly enjoy reading them and it helps improve and motivate my writing. Until next time.


	5. Safe and Sound

A cold sweat breaks across my skin as I now stare at the locked vault door. _He left us to die_ , I realize, as the full implications of what has just happened sets in. Varric's darling brother, Bartrand, has locked us in the vault, which until a moment ago was the residence of a lyrium idol that he now has possession of. After what Fenris and I experienced at the hands of that cursed thing it is probably better that he should keep it. Maybe if we're lucky it will tear his mind to shreds.

Long gone is the relative safety of the Deep Roads which were never safe to begin with. A tremor runs through my body and my eyes shift to that of my sister. Her face holds the same thing mine does. Shock, anger, fear. Varric is pounding on the vault door screaming at his brother in a futile effort. Bartrand is long gone and our payoff for this stupid expedition with him. He pounds until his fists are bloody but it must do nothing to ease his anger for he screams at the ceiling. He turns to us, cursing more colorfully as he threatens the air that he will stick sharp objects in places on Bartrand that I don't even want to think of.

I cannot believe of all the bad feelings I had about this expedition that I didn't see that coming. Sure he was shady, money grubbing and power hungry but he was Varric's brother. Then it hits me like a charging ogre. He was probably hoping we would die this entire expedition so he could get more of the payoff. This half snort, half disgusted sound emerges from my throat. Then I sigh. We have two choices now, stay here and die or try to fight our way out and probably die. I can't help it, the choice is so ridiculous that I start laughing. What begins as a giggle soon erupts into a cackle and it won't stop. I find myself sitting on the stairs in a fit of heinous laughter. I know that it must look like I've completely lost my marbles and I couldn't really care less. Because if I don't do something I will probably breakdown and completely lose it, and doing that will get me nowhere.

"I'm glad you find this so amusing Hawke," Fenris says sharply.

Abruptly I stop laughing. All three of them are looking at me in tandem. I lean over resting my elbows on my knees and rub my eyes. I'm exhausted, tired of getting screwed over, tired of being poor, tired of being the stable one all the time, and tired of just being so damn tired all of the time. It's been two years now of this crap with the expedition being the light at the end of the tunnel, a means to make things better for my mother and my sister. Now that light is snuffed out and I am left with the basest of needs. The need for survival. _I will not die down here._

Varric's voice brings my attention to him. "There's only one bloody way out of this crap shoot now."

As one we look towards the door. "It appears so," I mumble.

I glance at the elf. He appears unaffected by the turn of events, almost resigned. Not angry like the rest of us. It's like he isn't surprised at all. I find myself frowning. There was something he said to me once I remember. _Everyone has a price, everyone will betray you_.

"Well, we've already faced one dragon on this expedition. How much worse can it get?" Bethany asks trying to get us to see the bright side. I huff at my ever positive sister.

"It can always get worse," the elf says. His voice doesn't carry the usual indignant tone I expect it to, or, in fact, any tone at all. I am trying to understand how he can live like that when his gaze shifts to mine and our eyes lock. We stare at each other for a few moments until Bethany intercedes again.

"And it can always get better too, Fenris," she says as she walks up to stand next to where I sit shifting her weight to one side to lean on her staff.

There are moments when I love her ability to see the good in every situation, her fierceness against the world when it is determined to come crashing down around her.

The elf regards her sternly before slowly turning away as he mumbles, "Not in my experience."

But Bethany doesn't let it drop, instead she says, "Well you found us Fenris, didn't you?" Trying to persuade him that things could indeed get better.

"What makes you think it was a good thing?" he calls over his shoulder.

She pauses for a moment then says, "You're still here."

For that he has no comeback. I almost laugh. I guess tenaciousness runs in the family.

Since none of us were in any rush to dig our graves we soon after venture out into the great unknown. The battles we encounter are surmountable and slowly the hope creeps back. I am beginning to think maybe we will get out of this alive. That is until we encounter something that is wholly new. Some kind of rock creature comes alive and starts attacking. By sheer surprise alone it gets a few good whacks in before we can subdue it completely. We stare at the remains for a few moments trying to figure it out.

"What in the seven hells was that thing?" I ask.

"I don't know. They remind me of stories I heard as a boy, ancient stories that were more legend than anything. I think they were called rock wraiths," Varric replies.

" _Wonderful_ ," I say, voice dripping with sarcasm. "What legendary creature will we run into next? Grumpkins or Snarks?"

"Grumpkins and snarks?" Fenris asks quizzically.

I shake my head, "Just folktales my father used to tell the three of us to scare us into being good."

“Carver loved those stories,” Bethany says wistfully.

I smile. “Yes, up until he had to go to sleep. Then he would try to keep us up all night for fear of the dark.”

She chuckles briefly and goes quiet. “He would have hated this place,” she says.

I snort, “Are you kidding. After that monstrous spider he would have turned around and said _Fuck this_.”

My sister giggles. “Maker, he did hate spiders.”

I shoot her a look of wry amusement. “Can you blame him?”

“Well when the things are larger than you are I can see the reason. I despise the damn things.” Varric added.

“I think their fascinating,” says Bethany. “The way they protect their young. How they hunt and feed. Their intelligence.” Her eyes light up with interest.

I turn to Varric. “When she was little she would find spiders and put them in a box and try to keep them as pets. Needless to say they always found a way to escape and one night Carver woke up with one of Bethany’s “pets” on his face.”

Varric glances at my sister. “I always knew there had to be some serious fault with you. No one can be so sweet and happy without some sort of major flaw.” He shakes his head at the ground, “Spiders.” Shivering, he makes a disgusted sound.

We head through a doorway that leads to a hall and any other conversation is cut short. More rock wraiths. We dispatch them easily enough, only to encounter more and more, and their ever increasing presence fills me with dread.

We reach a long hallway with pillars on either side, eerie light emitting from some unknown source to light the way before us. At the end stands a great rock formation that looks much like the rock wraiths we have encountered but on a much grander scale. It comes alive when we approach and we immediately draw our weapons only to have the creature speak to us instead of attack.

"Stop," it yells. "I would not have these creatures harmed anymore." It pauses, waiting for a reaction. I stand up straight, daggers falling to my sides but don't put them away. The silence stretches and if I could read the face of such a monstrosity perhaps I could tell what its thinking. But there is no face to discern, no features that have any resemblance of humanity.

"They attacked us," I say harshly.

The beady eyes focus on me and it says, "They will attack you no longer if you let them be."

My eyes narrow as I look up at the monstrosity. "What are you?" I ask.

"I am from beyond this reality and I use the creatures you have been killing to feed. They are a creature thought extinct and they roam down here feeding on the lyrium deposits. I, in turn, feed off of the magic they consume."

Revulsion prickles my spine. "You're a hunger demon," I say. It nods its head. "Okay then, how do we get out of here?" I hear Fenris growl in disapproval behind me which makes me want to turn around and slap him. Although the thought occurs to me that if Anders were here he would do more than just growl, he'd be yelling at me.

The demon stares for a few moments longer. "I will tell you if you dispose of the creature that plagues my rock wraiths."

I cross my arms over my chest and sigh. “Fine.”

"You must also swear to take only the key and nothing else," it adds.

"Sure, whatever you say," I reply, although now my interest is piqued. _What exactly is that creature guarding?_

The demon clearly doubts me since he does not move out of our way or give us directions. Then it says something that makes my skin crawl. "There are whispers of you in the dark places of the world."

My eyes widen in alarm, "W-What?" I stutter. Terror grips me and squeezes. My heart begins to pound like a jack hammer in my chest. "What is that supposed to mean?" I manage, but even I can hear the fear in my voice.

It refuses to say more. Moving to the side, it gives the directions on the one and only route out of here.

Varric trots up next to me. "What was that cryptic statement all about?"

I shake my head. "I have no idea," I say, barely audible. To say I am disturbed by the encounter is a horrendous understatement.

My sister, who walks calmly behind says, "I'm sure it is nothing. Probably meant to scare you is all."

A pressure in my shoulders eases. She is right. She must be right. It's nothing. Just my imagination. _Was that vision of your father just your imagination too_? my snappy mind wants to say. But I stamp it down, stamp it down so hard and focus on something else, anything else.

My eyes are instantly drawn to Fenris by way of habit who walks well ahead of us with his sword drawn. I stare at him like he is the last stable thing on this earth. The muscles in his back bulge and stretch with the movement of his arms. The lyrium glistens like silver rivulets imbedded in his skin. It's beautiful, making my fingertips itch with the need to know what they feel like. I sigh and look away, _what a ridiculous desire_ , I think, drawing my daggers out to give my hands something to concentrate on. Longingly, I wonder if I will ever feel the touch of someone, other than my family, who cares for me, who needs me.

"If you stare at him with anymore yearning it will make me throw up." Varric says. I shoot him a glare, telling him to keep his mouth shut. "What? I'm just saying is all." I roll my eyes at the dwarf and keep walking _. It’s the distraction I need not the man._ But I don’t voice the thought.

…

My eyes flick open and I awake with my heart in my throat. The dream I was having fades away but I remember how it ended…with Fenris's hand in my chest. I've been having that same dream more and more now. The _why_ changes from dream to dream but the ending remains the same. The elf's hand is imbedded in my chest and I can feel his lyrium tainted skin squeezing my heart.

I roll over to the side and see him some distance away staring off into the huge cavern. I don't know how long I've slept but it doesn't feel like enough. It never feels like enough anymore. I sit up slowly rubbing my eyes. Pushing the hair back from my face, I look for my other two companions. Varric is snoring as usual while my sister thrashes in her sleep. I frown. She's been doing that more often lately although she never remembers why when she wakes up. But I can tell it is taking a toll on her, the dark circles under her eyes give it away. She's not sleeping well but there is very little I can do. Maybe once we get out of this accursed place she'll get better. But Maker only knows when that will be.

After the battle with the creature guarding the door and the subsequent battle with the demon that I then betrayed to get the treasure, traveling had become an endless cycle of waking and walking and sleeping and waking again, so on and so on. Both Varric and Bethany had been ecstatic by the discovery of so many unknown trinkets to pawn off and the first few days were taken up of estimating just how much we had found. After that life had become rather dull. Two weeks have passed in this manner or at least it is by the number of times we've slept. Fenris keeps his distance, ignoring me or giving one word replies to any question that I ask him. Not that I'm all that surprised given the idol incident. But I never thought I would actually miss our bickering, and I do. It's better than this stoic, disapproving face that I see day in and day out. Even Varric has had trouble talking to him, complaining that traveling with him is like traveling with an undead corpse. All you got was grunts and groans in reply to anything. Even my sister has been more subdued than usual. The perpetual darkness, dank air and lack of decent sleep must be getting to all of us, myself included. Days and nights have lost meaning down here. We walk until we can't walk anymore, break for some food, then get up and walk again until we can barely feel our feet. Occasionally we run into a few vagabond bands of darkspawn but they aren't large enough in number to really cause us any major problems.

Carefully, I ease myself up, cringing at every protest from my horribly sore muscles. I feel like an old woman as I walk past Bethany. She grumbles and strikes out again at some unknown foe making me more concerned than I already am. I sigh and keep walking and somehow I know Fenris is watching me from where he sits, scowling like he always does. I've come to know his habits over these past few weeks, more than anyone should know about a person that isn't a family member or a lover. He cries out in his sleep a lot and thrashes much the way my sister is right now. He doesn't trust me anymore since he thinks I'm a mage apparently. And on top of that he watches me as if he is waiting for something to happen, something bad. I don't like it. I don't like it at all.

After taking care of my human needs in the dark, I decide for the first time upon entering the deep roads to sing my morning aubade. Although Maker only knows what it is like outside right now. I am not so far from the campsite; in fact I can still see Fenris in the firelight. He probably cannot see me as I can barely see what is even around me but I have the gut wrenching inclination to kneel here and sing.

I sigh, long and hard, closing my eyes and wishing for the lapping water and bright sun of Kirkwall. The song comes hard and disjointed at first, as if I am pushing against a closed door that is stuck in the humidity. It feels unnatural and I almost stop, sick with some feeling I can’t understand. Then just as quickly that door inside me bursts open and all my tension leaks out of me. Its starts out slow at first and with every verse the flow picks up until it's like a fountain has sprung free inside me. Singing eases my mind normally but now I feel like a large weight has been lifted. All my stress, pent up aggression, anger, frustration, everything from the past weeks leaks away into the earth and as my song ends something astonishing happens, the large cavern lights up, one lyrium stalactite at a time, until it is as bright as the day. I stare up in wonder until I look down and realize where I am.

The chasm.

The very same cliff I have seen night after night in my dreams. I can't move. My body wants to run, sprint as fast as I can away from this place but I am frozen. I hear them now. Voices, so many voices whispering together that I cannot make out what they say. I shut my hands over my ears, trying to block them out, squeezing my eyes shut and rocking back and forth with the effort. Horrifically, I notice they are all in my head. _Oh Maker no. What is wrong with me? What am I hearing?_ A faint mewling sound that is high, pitiful and weak breaks me from my trance. It's me, I realize and the sound cuts off but not soon enough. Fenris has walked over with his sword drawn, staring down at me with a look that is both sad and knowing. He believes I'm fighting for my soul and that it is a fight I will not win. I am an abomination in his eyes now.

The whispers are gone or silent, stamped out by the new fear that stands before me. He means to kill me I understand. I glare defiantly up at him and I am suddenly sick of this game we play. If he wants to kill me let him get it over with.

I look back down at the ground, my hands clawing into the dirt unknowingly. "Do it," I whisper to him. His feet don't move from my side, nor does he say anything. I look up at him again and I yell, "What. Are. You. Waiting. For? DO IT!" Still he doesn't move but he looks puzzled now. "What do you need, an excuse, a command, a reason so you don't feel bad, something you can explain to my sister? What?" He's at war with himself, I can see that now. _Bastard_.

"Why did you do that?" He gestures with his head to the rest of the lit up cavern. His sword still hovers between us like a jilted lover, ready to take revenge should I say the wrong thing.

"I…didn't," I whisper to the ground, but it feels like a lie. Something happened but I don't know what. Deep down I know it was me no matter how much I may want to deny it. I felt something leave me, leak out of my body with everything else.

From the corner of my eyes his sword wavers back and forth as he shifts his weight from side to side. "You gave all your magic to the room. Why?"

I look up at him utterly confused. "What?"

He falters and his sword falls to his side. "You don't know how you did it, do you?"

"I…How do _you_ know what I did?" I ask.

"I felt it." When I still look confused he says, "My brands. They hummed with power when you released it." He is looking at me strangely now. "How do you not know?" he asks.

Bethany's voice comes from behind and startles me. "She doesn't. But I think I know how she did." I turn around and look at her. My shock must show because she gives me a wan smile. "Father told me," she says by way of explanation. "It's the song you sing. It releases it from your body," she hesitates and looks at the ground as if she can't bear to say it to my face. "It shuts you off from the Fade."

I turn towards the two of them, the cliff forgotten. "What?! How…How do you know this!?" I half shout and half ask, the accusation clear in my voice. Betrayal stings me like the crack of a whip. _Betrayed by my own sister_ , the thought rings in my head. Sitting back on my heels away from the cliff I try to absorb this but everything in me screams that I must be wrong. She would never betray me. Never.

She kneels down in front of me, effectively making Fenris back up a few steps. "Do you remember the time father smacked me so hard I couldn’t sit in a chair for a week?” I stare at her, and then nod. It was one of the few times I had ever seen our father truly angry with her. She was nine and I was twelve. Father and I had gone to the river to sing like we normally did but we had a tail that time in the shape of my sister. Half way through the song my father realized she was there, yet still took the time to let me finish before taking off after her. My mother and father had a very loud argument after that pertaining to the whole thing. I still had trouble making sense of it.

“You found out then?” I ask. “So long ago.”

“I was told you were put through the Rite of Tranquility only…only it didn’t work the way it was suppose to. I thought he made it up or something, until I saw the burn when we moved to Kirkwall. Even then I couldn’t believe, didn’t want to believe. Until now when I woke up and witnessed it for myself."

I nod my head not looking at her. But I can't push away the betrayal that twists in my stomach. "So I am a mage," I say. Just uttering the words fills me with dread. _Why?_

She nods, "I think so. Once maybe. But now…I just don’t know."

"Once maybe?"

She doesn't say anything but touches the collar bone where my scar sits. _So it's true then. What I saw. It wasn't a figment of my imagination._ _Oh Maker it wasn't a fear it was a… My Father…My father…_ and I can't even think it. I want to cry. I so desperately want to cry. _Was everyone in on this? Did they all know and hide it from me? Why? Why would they do that? My own sister._ _My mind reels at the thought but no. She didn’t know. She didn’t know it was our father._ And suddenly I am angry, angrier than I've ever been. Angry at her, angry at him, angry at everyone.

I stand up and she with me. Rage floods my veins and makes me strong, gives me something to grasp onto. I revel in it because if I don't I'm afraid my sanity will give out.

"How could you keep this from me? How can I trust you again?” She flinches at the accusation in my voice but doesn't back away from me and it just makes my wrath that much more difficult to control. "You even acted like you didn't know. You lied to me!"

She frowns, "I didn't lie. I have no idea how you were made Tranquil."

I scowl, "And somehow that makes it ok?"

She sighs, "No it doesn't. But I couldn't tell you. Father made me swear not to tell you. He said he was afraid-" But she cuts off rather abruptly and looks away like she's ashamed to tell me. It's like ice coating my blood and instantly my anger dies and apprehension springs up in its place. The color drains from my face, and for the first time in a long time I feel real fear, real hopelessness, and I don't know how to fight it.

"Afraid of what?" I ask, even though I don't want to. Even though I'm afraid the answer will change me forever.

She looks up and her expression is pitying. "Of you."

I want to punch her, throw my fists at her because of what our father did. But doing that won't help, doing that won't make the betrayal any less painful or the facts any less real. So I do the only thing that I can do when I am trying to fight something I can’t see. I run.

Bethany shouts after me but I don’t hear her. I don't want to hear her. I have no idea where I'm going and I don't really care I only know that it leads to the surface and away from what I can't face. The corridors are all lit up from the lyrium deposits and it's like a knife in the back every step of the way. My eyes burn and my cheeks are wet and I know I am crying. The light from the lyrium eventually dwindles until I am sprinting in darkness. I run and run until I feel like my lungs will explode from my chest or my legs will give out.  

My luck finally runs out and I trip over something I don't see and go tumbling across the corridor until I hit the wall. The fall takes the breath from my lungs and I am left gasping for air that won't come. My world feels like it is crumbling around me in large fragments. It’s an eternity before the air enters and I am taking large, gasping breaths as I prop myself against the wall and curl into a ball. I gulp one big lungful of air after another and then something horrible begins. I clap my hand over my mouth as the pitiful choking sounds I make when I sob take over. Gaining control of them for only a moment the sounds erupts from me anew as I begin to lose control. Everything I knew has come crashing down around my ears, and I don't even know who I am anymore. The people I have loved my entire life were never what they seemed. They castrated my magic when I was little, turned me into something I'm not, then hid it from me. _Why? Why would they do that, and why am I not completely tranquil?_

The sound of footsteps chasing after me brings me back into focus. They are getting closer to where I am and I instantly choke down the tears. They will not see me breakdown, I will not give them the pleasure. I have no desire to see my sister, or Varric and especially not Fenris. But I know that running gait and lightness of foot.

A figure turns the corner and I see that my worst assumptions are right. Fenris. I look back at the ground in front of me and clench my jaw against the need to cry, but even my body betrays me as more tears escape the confines of my eyes. It is much harder the patch the walls of a damn once they have been breached.

"Come to finish me off have you? Or perhaps to gloat?" I don't even bother looking at him. I expect him to stand above me or hover over me in dominance but to my surprise he sits down a few feet away. I look over bewildered but he doesn't look at me, just sits and stares at the wall on the other side, chest heaving.

Without making eye contact he says through a breath, "You're fast for a human… I had a hard time tracking you. Thankfully you make enough noise." His tone gives nothing away and I am not sure what to make of the comment.

A disgusted noise erupts from my throat. "Even your compliments sound like insults," I remark snidely. Perhaps if I argue with him it will keep me from crying.

He looks over at me now and I expect him to be smug or arrogant like he usually does but he looks at me quizzically. "Had you reacted any differently I would have thought you were lying. But I realize now you aren't. And..." he pauses and takes a swallow before saying, "I'm sorry."

I'm shocked, then unexpectedly a laugh bursts from my mouth before I can smother it. It takes me a second to figure out why because the idea that he would seriously apologize for anything is so preposterous. "You're sorry?" I ask, indignant. "What, sorry for slamming me against a wall, or maybe you're sorry for accusing me of working with Danarius, or perhaps for not believing I have morals, or better yet you're sorry for constantly taking your anger out on me?" My fury is getting the better of me now that I have found a new outlet. "Do I look like a punching bag to you!?" I yell.

He flinches, "No…and I'm sorry for all of it." Pausing for a moment he then continues, "It is hard for me to trust anyone."

“There’s a real surprise,” I snap. “I think I might die from that surprise.”

He continues in a calm voice as if I didn’t just mock him. "As you can imagine it is especially hard for me to trust someone I think is a mage and hiding it. But given your reaction just now you're either a phenomenal actress or you really did have no clue. I am inclined to believe the latter of the two."

"Well whoop-de-doo," I say sarcastically while twirling my hand in a circle. The tears have stopped finally in the wake of my anger and I am thankful for that at least. "So… what, we pretend everything is all sunshine and rainbows now?" I retort.

"You like that phrase." He says, and the comment catches me of guard.

"Actually I believe I stole it from you. As you said not all mages are sunshine and rainbows like my sister." The sentence turns sour in my throat. "Apparently you were right after all," I say wretchedly.

He is silent for a minute then shocks me more than I thought capable. "Hawke, I wasn't right. Your sister…" and he takes a breath, "She has one of the strongest wills I have ever seen in a mage. Perhaps…" and he looks at the ground, "Perhaps I am the one that is wrong." I am astounded by his confession but I don't respond to it. I don't even know what to say. He continues, "And to answer your question, no, I don't presume anything between us will ever be sunshine and rainbows. We are both too hot tempered for that, I think." I am looking for the insult in his remark but it comes out completely lacking of any emotion. He's just stating a fact in his mind.

"I am _not_ hot tempered," I say resentfully. He looks at me and raises an eyebrow. "Well I'm not." And the comment comes out more like a whine this time. I sigh and admit, "Ok, maybe I am just a little."

The tiniest smile quirks his lips in response as he looks away again and insanely I find myself smirking back. Then I shake my head abruptly because I must be losing my mind to find humor in these circumstances. The craziest part of it all is that I feel somewhat normal now. This conversation has grounded me and I keep blinking in confusion, because never in a million years would I expect talking with Fenris to make the world feel somewhat….stable. I am grateful I realize, and the thought startles me again. _Andraste save me_ , I think.

After a long stretched out silence I hear voices coming up the same corridor. I get to my feet slowly, as does Fenris beside me. Brushing the dirt off me and doing a silent tally of the number of bruises I will have after this fall, I gaze up at the elf when he gets close. His eyes lock with mine and amazingly my heart skips a beat. That need to touch him overrides me again and I lift a hand only to have it pause in mid-air. He looks at it with a mixture of apprehension and…something else. I fold my fingers into a fist and pull it back to my side ignoring the ache to reach out again. _What in the void is wrong with me?_

I let out a breath I had no idea I was holding and say, "Thank you." He nods and his eyes flick to my hand that was extended and once again something unreadable flickers in his eyes before he turns and begins walking ahead. Bethany and Varric turn the corner and come into view.

When they both catch sight of me and my somewhat normal state they both sigh simultaneously in relief. Apparently even they thought we would be at each other's throats. I am still angry at my sister for denying me the knowledge of what I am but it is subdued now. I begin to believe that maybe she just did deny the knowledge all this time. The mind has a way of believing something you tell yourself over and over again, even if the truth has smacked you in the face. The circles under her eyes are more pronounced today, causing me to frown, but then I think we all look like we could use some solid sleep.

"You didn't kill each other I see," Varric says, an amused tone clear in his voice.

I can only manage a half smile that doesn't reach my eyes, "It was a close call." He chuckles again and continues forward as my sister stops to stand beside me.

"I'm sorry," she says, and there is sincere regret in her eyes. "I wanted to tell you so many times especially after I saw the scar but I kept wishing I was wrong. That I somehow imagined all of it. Father said you still innately gathered it somehow but every time you sang nothing ever happened."

"Why didn't he just tell me?"

She pauses, deep in thought, then says, "Well you didn't seem to remember anything from that time and you were still normal, you still had your emotions just not your magic. There was no reason to, I suppose."

Which brought up another question. "Why didn't the Rite of Tranquility work on me?"

She shakes her head, "That I don't know the answer to. Father didn't know or didn't tell me."

I frown, "Why did he tell you?"

She bites her bottom lip in apprehension. "Well, the day I followed you and father. There was this diary I found.” She pauses and looks at me, “His Diary. Where he recorded your developments and apparently mine as well.” She pauses again and appears uneasy. “He documented us both like we were experiments. I thought it was just because we inherited his magic, but now…now I am not so sure.”

“So you really don’t know why or how I was made Tranquil?”

She shakes her head and smiles at me sadly. “I don’t know the particulars and father refused to tell me. And after the beating I received I was too scared to ever ask again.” I nod and we start to walk in the direction of our companions, "I haven't seen it since that day,” she says, “but I assume our mother still has it stashed away somewhere."

_That will be something I intend to find once we get back_ , I think to myself. _Once we get back_ , I think, _when did that switch happen_?

I grab her hand and give it a squeeze, “I’m sorry for thinking you betrayed me. I should have known better.”

Her eyes crinkle as she smiles and again the circles under them disturb me. “I can hardly hold it against you. And honestly if it weren’t for your reaction Maker only knows what Fenris would have done.”

I look ahead trying to spot the elf in the distance. “I expect the outcome would have been much different indeed.”

We eventually catch up with the other two and travel more or less in silence for a while. My mind keeps drifting off, deep in thought. Bethany, I think, is just exhausted and doesn't feel like it, while Fenris is always silent unless he's yelling at someone. Varric is about to have a fit or drive himself nuts with our lack of banter.

"You three are like walking with the dead." Varric swears. "I might as well travel these damn Thaigs myself."

With that the path expands and empties us into a huge cavern. We walk up together onto some kind of dais and pause to look around. There's something awfully familiar about this place.

"Ancestors take me; I think I know where we are."

My gaze shoots in his direction. "You do?"

He nods, "We're back in the Deep Roads." And that’s when I realize why it is so familiar although it feels like a lifetime ago since I’ve been here. The sigh of relief that escapes me is huge.

Bethany gasps from behind me and her voice comes out strangled, "You mind if we stop then?"

I turn around just as she falls to her knees on the ground, her staff the only thing keeping her upright. I see it then and I don't know how I didn't put two and two together, the dark circles weren't just dark circles from lack of sleep. The veins under her skin are darkening, around her neck and her eyes and her hands. The Blight.

"Bethany!" I cry, and her name comes out choked off. I fall to my knees beside her and I see her face etched in horrible agony. She moans and falls against me, the staff clanging to the ground, its sound echoing around the chamber like some kind of death toll. Her breathing is labored. My hands fawn over her uselessly as the tears begin to fall. _You're not going to lose me_ , she said. _I am safer with you than I am in our uncle's hovel,_ she said. And now I will watch her die. I need to do something. I have to save her.

"Maybe if we got her out of here fast enough we could find someone to help her. Varric, how far away do you think we are?" I look at him, pleading silently that he will give me the answer I want to hear. He shakes his head, his wretchedness clear for all to see, "Perhaps two weeks, Hawke."

"There is no cure for the Blight, Hawke, you know this," Fenris says quietly and I want to punch him. Doesn't he understand? I can't lose her. She is all I have left. I promised she would be okay. I promised she would come back. I promised… _You're not going to lose me, Cassie._

"Shut up!" I scream at him. Looking back at Bethany my hands hover over her body, "There has to be a way," I say determined. "There just has to be." _I'm a mage_ , I think, _or I was_. I can heal this. Placing my hands on her chest I close my eyes and concentrate. _How do I do this? There has to be something inside me, something buried deep within me. Come on, come on, think_! But I feel nothing, and I don't even know what I am looking for.

Bethany's hand touches my cheek bringing my attention to her. Her eyes are glassy as she gives me a sad lopsided smile. "Cassie, you can't heal the Blight," she says. "Don't you remember Aveline's husband?" She stops, grits her teeth and looks upward in mute agony, back arching against something I can't see, something I can't protect her from. _You're not going to lose me, Cassie._ Slowly she lets a long ragged breath out and her eyes focus on mine again, "Please," she begs, "its spreading fast now, I can feel it, don't let me die like this."

I'm staring at her confused. I don't know how to save her. How can I have all these skills and talents and still be so useless in the face of death? Then it dawns on me like a knife in the heart what she is asking. "No," I say vehemently. "I will not kill you. You're going to be alright somehow." But I see in her eyes the denial of my words. _You're not going to lose me, Cassie._

"It's too late," she whispers before closing her eyes again and groaning in pain again. It should be me. It should be me laying there _not_ her. Not my sweet innocent little sister. She doesn't deserve this, not this kind of death, lost in some cursed place with no one but me to be with her. She should die wrinkled and gray leaving behind a legacy of children and grandchildren to take her place. Not this…Not this. _You're not going to lose me, Cassie._

"Just don't leave me here alone," she says, through baited breath.

I sob, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm never letting you go." The light is already leaving her eyes and I want to scream. _Don't leave. You can't leave me._

Tears stream down her face, "Promise me something," she says. "Promise me _you'll live_. Promise me you won't stop living."

I shake my head and I'm not sure what to say, "Of course. I will get out of here alive."

She looks as if she wants to say something when another wave of pain hits her and the words come out in a cry of agony.

"Hawke," says Varric's voice tentatively. I look up at him, sniffing and wiping tears from my eyes. His grief is palpable, and I realize I am not the only one suffering. "Give her peace." And his words nearly break.

I'm shaking my head and rocking back and forth in the light of what I must now do. I have to end my sister's life. I have to take away her future. How can I do such a thing? How can I do it and not hate myself in the end. _Please take me, please take me instead_ , I pray, _please, please, please_. But my prayer goes unanswered. Fate is laughing. Tears flow in an endless stream down my face blurring my vision. I pull out my knife and even that small movement feels like I am carving my heart out with a spoon. Her eyes are open now, staring up at me hopefully. How can she look at me with such relief written on her face? My whole body is shaking and I can't even grip the knife securely in my hand.

_I love you_ , she mouths, her hand squeezing my arm as it holds her. I start sobbing uncontrollably, "I love you too."

She touches my face one last time. "Close your eyes." I tell her. I take a deep breath, the world coming down to the dagger that hold in my hand. And in one moment's courage I plunge the knife into her side, straight to her heart. Her body stiffens in shock, eyes snapping open, then slowly relaxes her chest rising, gurgling then falling, and it doesn't rise again. _You're not going to lose me..._ I stare at her for a moment and I can't comprehend what I've just done. _Just close your eyes. You'll be alright; no one can hurt you now._ Lies. All lies. Then like a sledgehammer slamming me in the heart I feel everything. This high pitiful careening begins and erupts from my mouth in a wordless scream of despair as I cradle her body, rocking her back and forth in my arms. Her words repeating like an ugly mantra in my head, _you're not going to lose me, Cassie._

I don't know how long the sobbing goes on for but eventually I run out of tears and let her go. I can't look at Varric or Fenris as I get up, one look at them and I'll fall to pieces again. I stare at my sister for a long moment and if I didn't know any better I would swear she was sleeping. Her face is peaceful, wiped clean of any suffering. But her chest doesn't rise. She doesn't get up and curse at me for being up so early, she doesn't get up and bicker with me like she usually does. She lays there silent, dead. And I want to die with her. But I can't.

After hours of searching, I find a bunch of rocks, I pick up as many as I can carry and start to lay them around her, framing her body at first then placing them carefully on top. My companions help me, wordless, and I am thankful but I can't seem to find the words to say so at the moment. After what seems like days, she is covered completely and I want to just fall on the ground and die right there. But I promised I would live. I didn't know that promise would be so hard to keep. Taking her staff in my hand I strap it to my back while Fenris and Varric carry what little belongings she had.

"Hawke-" the dwarf begins, but I cut him off.

"Don't, Varric," I plead, "Just don't or I'll lose it."

He nods and as a group we turn towards the Deep Roads and leave my sister behind along with a piece of my heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this latest addition. Three year fast forward coming up next week.


	6. Three Years Later

**_An excerpt from Varric's Journal..._ **

Three years have passed today since our expedition in the Deep Roads and I'm still in my same little corner of paradise that is the Hanged Man. It is hard to believe the passage of time that has occurred and the fact that I've become rather fond of my group of companions/mercenaries for hire. I thought, after our expedition in the Deep Roads, that we would eventually split apart and go our separate ways and perhaps that is still a possibility but for now they all stick around, even the brooding elf. I sent the remainder of the money that we got from the expedition to Hawke today via her dwarven messenger/housekeeper/manservant/ whatever the hell he is. I expect I will see her tonight since we are all gathering here like we have the past two years to remember Sunshine and the sacrifice she made. I keep waiting for that moment when Hawke will be able to talk about her sister and smile without so much pain behind her eyes. I don't think it will ever come though, she's lost too much. I curse Bartrand every day for locking us down there and I look forward to the moment I can shove Bianca so far up his ass that he will be picking splinters out of his mouth for weeks. That day is likely to be awhile from now though. He isn't brave enough to come near this city but the moment he does Hawke and I will be right there to greet him.

But there are good things that came of that expedition. The money we made has set us up for the next twenty years if we're good with it. Hawke acquired her family mansion back. I have yet to see the inside but the outside looks nice now that she's invested money into fixing it up and removed the dead bodies. I haven't seen as much of her in the past three years as I used to. She still stops by from time to time but we haven't done any mercenary work together since the expedition. She still gets offers from what I'm told but doesn't include any of us in on it. When I've asked her why she always waves it off and says there is no need for it. If I didn't know her better I would think she wants to keep the money she earns for herself. But she has never been that focused on wealth. In fact I think she's more uncomfortable in that mansion than her uncle's hovel although I think it's more the notoriety it has earned her. I believe she is afraid of endangering anyone but herself, especially after what happened to Sunshine. I can't blame her but I also worry about her.

The expedition changed her. It changed all three of us but Hawke most of all. She doesn't laugh as easy any more or joke the way she used to. Rivaini and Hawke were so alike in personality that you got the two of them together that it was nonstop laughter. Hawke is more reserved now though, more cautious in her decisions, and the lightness that was in her every step is now gone. The loss of her sister was more than she could bear. There are times when I see it shine through though and it usually revolves around Anders. The two have become extremely close over the past three years which I'm assuming has something to do with her learning she was a mage. She’s become devoted to helping mages escape Kirkwall, although I think obsessed is a better word. Perhaps she thinks if she can save one more mage she can ease the pain of losing her sister. It’s gotten to the point that Knight Commander Meredith has become aware of the situation and it is only Hawke’s notoriety that protects her now. Everyone in Kirkwall knows the name Hawke. And everyone also knows she supports mages in their right for freedom. It’s made her both a target for assassination and a beacon of hope. Either way it is not shaping up to be dull.

She and Anders have become inseparable for that reason. She cares for him deeply; I can see it when she watches him talk to others. She gets this sort of wistful smile and a spark in her eye. The two of them becoming a couple does concern me, though but from what Anders says they are just friends. They must think I am a fool for I feel like screaming, “ _Bullshit!”_ _every time I see them._ I know a lie when I see it. There is more than just friendship there for both of them and if it evolves into more it will mean trouble for all of us.

There was a time that I thought for sure her chosen flirtatious disaster was Fenris. They way those two would bicker and occasionally throw punches made me think for sure they would eventually end up in bed, or on the floor, or the table together having angry sex. After the Deep Roads though she just shut off for a while and even now while she seems normal most of the time there are instances where she gets quiet all of the sudden and it's as if she's somewhere else, lost in a memory, and just for an instant that sorrow and regret shows through before she can cover it up again. Since then they've kept their distance from each other. I assume it has something to do with her discovery of being a mage and the elf's loathing of them, although I could be wrong because there are times, few though they are now, when I see them stare at the other when one isn't looking.

She has the worst taste in men. The two of them are moody enough that they are both in need of some serious manpons. But whatever. Once she chooses I'll be sure to record it because I'm sure her decision will be worthy of a story in its own right. But for now I'll watch the mayhem that ensues between these three and perhaps four if Hawke swings that way since Rivaini will sleep with just about anyone. Ancestors imagine that night. Men everywhere would be suffering from wood in need of a beaver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short interlude from a different perspective. There may be more of these in the future if you guys like them. Back to Hawke next chapter and the 3 yr reunion. Let me know what you think. Next chapter will be posted in a few days since I feel I am ripping you off with this one. Until next time.


	7. Wicked Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years have passed since the Deep Roads trip and all the companions reunite to commemorate Bethany's passing. Feelings between Anders and Hawke have blossomed into something more than friendship during this time while Fenris has chosen to keep his distance from her.

Anders looks at me in earnest. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asks for the hundredth time. My father's journal is resting in his lap and I sit across from him, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. My newly cut hair falls forward to frame my face in short wavy black layers. It hits me at chin level now, and is curlier than it used to be without all the extra added weight. I nod my head uncertainly, my hair bobbing with it. He frowns at me, "We can wait. It's been three years already. What's another few days or weeks or even months?" We've been having this same debate for about twenty minutes now. It was a topic I brought up after we already went through our new plans to help a group of mages escape the Circle. He doesn't see the reason in bringing up events in the past that will have no bearing on the future. Nothing magical has happened since that night in the Deep Roads and I feel normal most days. Well, as normal as can be expected anyway. I don’t sing anymore since its foundation as to why I did is based on a lie. But still something pulls me towards opening that book just to know the truth but I can't seem to do it on my own.

I sigh and chew the inside of my cheek in thought. "That's just it, Anders. It's been three years and I haven't had the courage to open that up yet," I say gesturing towards the journal. "What if it says I'm some sort of freak or demon spawn or something?"

My head falls on my open palms and I rub my eyes. After a few moments there is a rustle of clothing and then I feel his fingertips graze either side of my face. He kneels before me forcing my chin upwards until our eyes are level with each other. He stares into my brown ones, thumbs rubbing my cheeks.

"Listen to me," he says, tone serious, "Regardless of what this book says you are not a freak or a monster. You were born a mage and apparently still carry vestiges of the ability, there's nothing wrong with that. Unfortunately you weren't given the chance to control it fully. We can only be thankful that the procedure didn't work the way it was supposed to and you didn't become completely Tranquil. That choice was taken away from you and you have become someone else entirely because of what has been done and you've survived, even thrived. Does it really matter what's inside this book?" he asks jerking his head back towards the journal.

Tears are glinting in my eyes, I can feel them swelling at the corners with his words. I lay my hands on his where they rest on my face and pull them down to my lap refusing to let them go. The movement brings him a little closer pulling his hips against my knees. I rest my forehead against his and close my eyes. An undetermined amount of time passes in this manner as I feel myself falling blindly for the mage in front of me. Our mouths are inches apart and I can feel his breath on my lips. I want to close that distance and feel his mouth against mine. My lips part in anticipation.

"Hawke!" A shout breaks us apart faster than a priest on Sunday.

My face instantly flushes in embarrassment as I look at Isabela standing in the doorway to the library. "Should I come back?" she asks teasingly. "You two look like you're caught up in something..." and licks her lips dramatically, "tasty."

_Great_ , I think, _Varric will know about this within the next ten minutes_. I sit back against the back of the chair as Anders sighs and withdraws back to the couch. I will kill her if this ends negatively. "What is it?" I ask a little too harshly.

She pouts, "Are you sure you don't want to continue? I promise I won't interrupt this time." She shifts her weight and cocks her hip seductively.

"But you'll watch," I say.

She arches an eyebrow, "Of course. What kind of person do you take me for? A prude?" she says it like it's a bad thing.

"I don't think anyone could accuse you of being a prude, Isabela," I say. It's meant as a joke but the tiredness in my voice makes it fall flat.

"Mmmm hmmm, they better not," she says, and switches her weight to the other foot.

"Is there something we can help you with?" Anders snaps. I glance at him. Ok, he's more than a little annoyed at the interruption too. I wonder what we would be doing now had she not barged in. Kissing, running our hands over each other's body, undressing? Just thinking about it raises my heart beat. Damn her.

She smirks, "My my, testy are we. It's a shame I didn't come in a few minutes later. A damn shame."

I sigh dramatically, "Any idea when you will be getting to the point?"

"I just wanted to know when you two love birds were coming. Everyone's at the Hanged Man already waiting for you. Well, _almost_ everyone."

I shake my head confused, "But we aren't meeting till five o'clock."

She taps the foot she isn't leaning on, "Which begs the question what exactly have you two being doing because it's almost six."

I begin to say 'No its not' only to glance at the clock and realize she's right. We've been sitting here discussing a great many things for almost three hours, opening the journal one of them. Needless to say, we’ve accomplished nothing. Well maybe not nothing but nothing productive surely. I let out my held breath. "Ok. We are on our way." She doesn't move. I shift my gaze back to her. "Really just let me get changed and I'll come."

Smiling, "Ok," she says lightly. "Coming Anders?"

Anders huffs in surprised irritation. "I'll wait for her," he says, chin jerking in my direction.

Her expression becomes devious, "Sure you will. Waiting for her to cum maybe."

I flush in embarrassment and get up out of my chair. "Gods, Iz will you get out," I say, but I'm laughing and there is no sting in my words.

She giggles and heads back the way she came. "Let me know when you do and we can compare notes later," she calls over her shoulder. I look back at Anders and I don't even know where to begin. He gives me a half embarrassed smile and I raise an eyebrow and give him one back. What was a moment ago hot and intense is incredibly awkward now. Someone needs to beat that pirate's ass.

"Did I understand that right, you and Isabela?" and I can’t say the rest.

His cheeks redden, "It was a long time ago. Ages ago it seems. Well before Justice. I was a different man then."

“Obviously. I’ve been hitting on you for three years and have barely gotten my foot in the door while the entire time she has experienced the whole package with very little provocation.”

He sighs. “Again, I was a very different person back then.

I nod. _Interesting._ "Sooo," I say, rocking back and forth on my heels. "I'm gonna go get changed," and point over my shoulder towards the door. He nods and I sprint out of there and up the stairs. A few moments later, I have my outfit set out and the dressing robe off that I wear around the house when a soft knock comes at my bedroom door. I freeze. "Yes?"

The door opens and before I can get out anything but a yelp Anders peeks in and sees me in all my naked glory. His eyes widen in shock first then color into something else entirely. I'm waiting for him to close the door but he doesn't. I'm still trying to cover my naughty bits to little or no avail. His eyes roam over my body until a glare at him and clear my throat. "Do you mind!?" I shout. That seems to take him out of whatever trance he is in and jerks the door closed. I stop covering myself and sigh.

"I'll meet you down there," he calls through the door and before I can reply I hear his footsteps hurrying down the stairs.

"Okay," I say to myself. "Guess my body was a bit too much for him." I go over to the dresser and pull out some new brown leather pants, a sleeveless red tunic and of course, underwear. I slip it all on, throw on the boots to match and go to stand in front of the mirror. The tunic is a little lower cut than I usually like but it does naturally hold my breasts in place with its tightness which is a plus, then again they are small enough that I really don’t have to worry about that. I go to pull my hair back partially then decide against it. I actually like it like this, loose and wild. I grab my pack and head out the door calling to Bodahn as I leave.

The Sun is setting and a cool ocean breeze is coming off the sea. I inhale deeply and exhale. If there is one thing that I miss about living in Lowtown it's the ocean air. It doesn't normally reach this far into town. What I don't miss is the constant reminder of my sister though. Every time I walk past my uncle's I expect to see her hurry out and run after me, complaining that I never wait. I would give anything to hear that again. A sharp pain stabs me in my heart and I lose my breath for half a second. I'm getting better with it now, I realize, at least today. That pain can still make me stop in my tracks and gasp for breath like I am suddenly dying. But today isn't so bad, should I feel guilty for that? My sister's voice isn't there like it always was when I have these instances of conscience. My mood becomes somber. Just keep going. I’ve come too far to stop now.

Heading down the long stairway that leads into Lowtown I see ahead of me a familiar figure in the diminishing crowd of the day. His white hair and lyrium tattoos shine in the setting sun setting him apart from the crowd. I haven't seen him in almost a year, I think, although I can't be sure. It occurs to me that I should call out to him but I pause in doing so as sudden jolt of apprehension grips my stomach that seems to come from nowhere. We have had very few conversations since the expedition. I can count them on one hand in fact. I haven't noticed before now but it's almost as if subconsciously I've kept my distance from him. Frowning in the dying light of day, I see the Hanged Man standing out in the distance. Watching the elf walk through the crowd I notice that many people give him a wide berth, maneuvering out of the way well before he gets there. I've never actually noticed it before as usually I'm walking with him. _Must be his inviting demeanor_ , I think to myself, and smile.

When he reaches the door he glances back and looks like he's about to walk in but then stops and looks back again. His eyes find mine a second later and, surprisingly, he waits. I get butterflies in my stomach but then in horror I find myself smiling in giddy delight when I finally reach him.

"Hey Fenris," I say. "Where have you been hiding?"

His eyebrow quirks, "Same place as always, as you well know."

"So we're practically neighbors now," I tell him.

A calm and detached, "I noticed," is all I get in response. _So happy_ , I think sarcastically. We walk the rest of the way to Varric's corner in silence. He lets me go up the stairs first and follows right behind me. As I walk in a chorus a hellos greet me. I glance around the table and head towards the empty seat between Anders and Varric. Fenris, left with only one choice, goes to the seat opposite mine that sits next to Isabela. As I pull the chair out to sit down the pirate gives me a curious look.

"Now he isn't the one I expected to be coming behind you." There is something in the way she says it that makes that harmlessly normal sentence completely sexual in nature and as one all of our minds go in the gutter. "After what I witnessed at your home I would have expected it to be him," she says, pointing at Anders languidly. I groan in annoyance. While I'm not all that surprised I could have done with it not being announced at the table.

Varric perks up at this news. "What exactly did you witness, Rivaini?"

"Please don't," I whisper. But Varric acts like he hasn't heard me.

"These two were about a lick away from going at it in her library of all places," she gossips.

I feel Fenris staring at me across the table but manage to ignore him. "You exaggerate," I say sitting back in the chair.

Her eyebrows lift in disbelief. "If you witnessed what I did you would not be saying that."

I roll my eyes at her, "I did witness it. I was there. As far as you're concerned I could be sitting across the room and if I just looked at him in a certain way you would claim we were ready to jump each other's shit."

"But you weren't. Your lips were a mere inch from his and opened slightly as if readying to claim his mouth as your own."

_Holy shit she got all that._ I stare at her in surprise. Her smirk widens to a grin and now the whole table knows she tells the truth. _Well fuck me sideways._ I just gave it away.

Anders stands up out of his chair. "I can tell this is going to be one of those nights I will need to have a drink to get through it with my dignity in tacked." I smile up at him and grab his arm. "Get me one too, please?" My hand falls and he bends over slightly, caressing the side of my cheek while I still look up at him.

His normally placid face glows with affection, "Whatever my lady wishes." The public display startles me but is not unwanted. I must look amused, if a little taken aback, for he chuckles slightly and heads to the bar.

"Well if that wasn't confirmation of what I witnessed then I don't know what is," Isabella mocks.

I turn back towards her and give her a demeaning look. "I don't understand who I choose to share my bed with should concern you whether it be Anders or Fenris or anyone." The elf shifts uncomfortably next to Isabella but his look of disapproval has not left him. Clearly his interest does not contain me in any way shape or form. A small part of me, that I didn't even know still existed, deflates.

Isabela is watching me carefully, "So you still have interest in our lyrium tattooed elf then." _Maker does she never stop?_ My lips harden into a thin line. "Still? When did I start?"

Varric snorts next to me, clearly not believing a word of my denial. Surprisingly even Aveline who sits on the other side of Anders seat is unconvinced. _Was it really that obvious_? I meet the eyes of each one of my companions briefly. But avoid looking at the elf in question. No one believes. I'll be damned if I let the elf know it's true though. He watches me like a hawk as it is whenever we're in the same room together. It's not a friendly look or even somewhat pleasant it's… predatory.

"Fine, don't believe me. I don't really care," I snap petulantly. Where is Anders with my drink, I will need one to survive too.

"Well I guess that means the way is clear for me then," she says and reaches under the table to stroke Fenris'…leg? Something twists in my gut and makes my hands clench uncontrollably. My teeth grind together as my body becomes rigid in my chair. I am angry at her I realize, so angry I want to jump over this table and pummel her into the ground, as if by instinct, but why? Her eyes widen at my reaction and I have to close them to calm myself down. My hands grip the end of the chair arms so hard that my fingertips are numb. _Why am I reacting like this?_

"You're jealous," she says.

'No I'm not' I want to yell at her but it wouldn't be true. It does get under my skin but this feeling goes so much deeper than that, as if I don't have control and it just takes over. With supreme effort I open my eyes to find Fenris staring at me, confused. I look down at my hands before looking up at the two of them again across the table from me. Isabela has ceased her stroking but her hand still rests on his lap and even that small amount of touching has me angrier than a pissed off mabari. _What is wrong with me?_ I never reacted this strongly to anything having to do with Fenris even when there might have been a chance.

It takes a while for the complete silence at the table to register. They are all watching me curiously like I'm some kind of newly discovered animal and they want to see how I act. Anders walks in at this moment and appears to take in the deathly quiet. His facial features instantly become concerned as he glances around the table. "What's going on?" he asks.

I shake my head and look at my hands as they rest on my lap. "Nothing. Just Isabela prodding as usual," I say, but my voice comes out a little pissed off, however, nothing more than is common for her and for that I am grateful.

"Mmmm," he says and comes to sit down next to me.

He doesn't seem to notice the change in the atmosphere at the table. That or he chooses to ignore it, I don't know which. He hands me a glass of wine which I take gratefully then down the entire thing in one sitting. I normally drink very little but something has just pushed me over the edge and I don't know how to react. Anders watches in fascination. "Prodding huh?"

I swallow the last gulp, "Yeah."

After that I get a few more drinks which I don't down quite as quickly but the rest of the night becomes a blur. Hands of cards dealt, money lost, more teasing and prodding which is easier to ignore with Anders next to me, more touching of Fenris on Isabela's part with the elf seeming to accept and even welcome it which in turn has me drinking much more than usual. This is not good considering there are some things I wanted to take care of for the Viscount tomorrow. I need to be clear headed and I won't be able to handle this alone with a hangover.

"So what did the Viscount want?" Aveline asks me, leaning forward to see around Anders. _Damn it, everyone is reading my mind tonight._

I shrug, "Just something he wants me to look into, nothing dangerous."

She frowns at me; she knows more than I think she does. "Hawke, I know it has something to do with the Arishok. You cannot go into the Qunari complex alone."

Varric practically spits out his drink. "The Qunari! You better not try and handle them on your own."

_Crap!_

I act lackadaisical, "It's nothing. I just need to talk to them quickly, that's all."

"The Qunari talk to no one without a price. Especially the Arishok," Fenris says.

I sigh. I can't let them go with me. I don't want anyone else dying or getting hurt for something I chose to do. Losing Bethany made that clear to me.

"I'll be alright." I insist. "Like I said I just need to get some information. No fighting, I promise."

"You may not intend to Hawke, but it doesn't mean it won't happen," Aveline says. "The Qunari have caused nothing but problems since they got here and tempers are rising."

There isn't much I can say to that because it is true. Tempers are rising if what the Viscount says is true. And they aren't exactly the most forthcoming lot of people or the most welcoming. But nothing can be done. I must talk to them and I must do it alone. It is not a question.

"Hawke, if you're so sure it will be no big deal then it won't hurt anything if you bring a few of us with you," Varric says.

Isabela leans back in her chair propping her boots on the table. "Well you can count me out," she says loudly. Catching the glare the rest of the table gives her she raises her hands in the air and says, "Hey, I got plans. And they include something much more fun than tromping through some Qunari play land/prison."

I couldn't blame her. They aren't exactly the most entertaining bunch. From the looks I receive from everyone else though, Fenris included surprisingly, I will get nowhere being stubborn. I make a show of being reluctantly acquiescent. "Fine will it help your peace of mind if I bring Anders with me?" I ask Aveline fidgeting, although it's also for the rest of the table as well.

Her brow furrows but she says, "Yes. But I am coming too."

I sigh dramatically, "If you insist," I mumble.

I sit back in my chair annoyed but happy they bought the lie. I have no intention to let them come with me. I take my wine glass and drain the last dregs. As I put it down I notice Fenris watching me again. I try to read the expression on his face and see nothing but his contempt. Looking away again because I cannot stand to be analyzed in such a way I glance up at Anders, who is resting on the back of his chair deep in thought about something. I touch his arm and his eyes flick down to me, face changing as he smiles lazily. His arm turns with his palm facing up, hand displayed and waiting. I slip my fingers in-between his and our hands fold together. I don't care what the others think anymore. We aren't doing anything wrong, and I need the touch of someone that cares. And I know he cares, maybe not in the way I would want him to but I know he does. I lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes, getting a whiff of the mixture of herbs that relate to him and relax. A small tingle starts in my shoulders, massaging and pushing the tension out through the rest of my body. I sigh a little more loudly than intended. Damn him and his magic.

"Cheating" I say in a sing song voice and I feel him chuckle lightly.

A few hours later I walk home with Anders, my left arm tucked under his elbow. We make it to my door with no interference from anyone and I turn to look up at him. From the alcohol, my inhibitions are lowered and without thinking I ask, "Come in?" I intend only one thing with this invitation and he knows it. His eyes light up just for a second but then he shakes his head and takes a step away from me.

"I can't, Hawke," he says almost sadly. It's like a spear in the heart and it takes all my effort trying not to let the pain of his rejection show. I fail miserably. "I just don't know how it would work with Justice. He already sees you as nothing but a distraction."

I nod but I can't look at him. "Ok well, I'll see you tomorrow then," I say, pushing my pain away. He can't keep doing this. I'm not playing this game anymore. From now on he can chase me.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this latest addition. Please comment away if you have compliments, concerns, complaints, criticisms, etc. I love hearing what you think.


	8. Believe

It's mid-morning. I'm sleep deprived and my head pounds with a hangover but somehow this seems like the prime time for an adventure. _Not!_ Anyhow here I am. Already having seen the Arishok with my mabari- my only companion nowadays- I have found out that the ever elusive Javaris is hiding like a rat somewhere and has likely hired mercenaries to protect him. I shake my head in amusement. This man must have half a brain to think he was capable of stealing something from the Qunari and getting away with it. But then again the dwarf wasn't all that exceptionally bright when it came to dealing with the Arishok three years prior.

After coming to the bottom of the stairs in Darktown I look longingly for a moment to the left where it leads to Anders' clinic. Most likely he is just waking up. Zeus, sensing my hesitation, starts heading in the direction of the clinic only to look back at me and whine when I don't follow. It would be so easy to ask him to go early instead of our planned noon meeting, and he wouldn't say no. Maybe I should wait.

"Cassie!" a woman shouts. _Bethany?_ My heart jumps into my throat as I turn towards that voice that sounds so much like my sister. For a moment I spot her, running after me like she always did, her face jubilant with excitement, hair swinging wildly behind her. Tears blur my vision and my breathing begins to hyperventilate. _I'm not seeing her. She isn't here. Not really._ I blink and my vision clears, revealing that what I thought was my sister, is a woman with dark brown hair chasing madly after a small child who bears my name.

My chest heaves wildly as I try to get my bearings. The world sways and swirls before me, my hands and feet tingling with pins and needles. My vision darkens as a wave of dizziness almost overtakes me. I am on the verge of passing out. I know the signs now, especially since I've done it a number of times since _that_ trip. Turning around to sit down on the bottom stair, I put my head between my legs and breathe, forcing my pounding heart to calm down, my vision to clear and my breathing to regulate.

It takes a while but I eventually lift my head and look out into the nothingness of Kirkwall, and frantically try to get a better grip on my sanity. The years have done nothing to ease the pain of Bethany's passing. However, now there are days when I feel almost fine, close to normal, then there are days, like today, where the pain is so raw I hope my heart might give out because I can't bear it any longer. But it never does. It never does.

Zeus sits on his haunches in front of me, whining every now and again to get my attention. His head nudges under my hand and I let out a noise that is somewhere between a laugh and a sob as I scratch him behind the ears. Tears still swell in my eyes but at least they have stopped falling. I blow out a hard breath as everything slowly returns to normal.

"I never thought it would be this hard," I tell him, like he can understand me. "I never thought I would lose her too.” He whines again, leaning his huge body against mine in silent comfort. My hand begins to absently stroke his head as I blindly watch the people pass by me. "And what no one realizes is that I would give anything, my home, my money, my notoriety, even my life just so she could have hers back. I miss her Zeus. I miss her so much," and my voice breaks. "That's why I have to keep the others away," I explain, "I can't let anyone lose their life because of me." I stand with resolve, heart still aching and head towards the sewers. "Come on boy," I call to him, "Its better this way." Although every lick of common sense I have is telling me I'm wrong. So I am an idiot for doing this alone, but at least no one but myself could get hurt.

I'm about six battles in when I realize I'm in way over my head. I use the last of my potions and wince when my injuries slowly stitch themselves back together but don't heal completely. That is all the time I get though, as another group of Carta thugs find me and charge. The thug closest swings his sword outward in a motion that would have decapitated me if I was still standing. I duck quickly and the momentum of his swing carries him past me to leave me a nice opening of attack. I slice across the back of the first one with one blade and parry the blow from another with my second. The third thug is stronger than I realize when the flat of his blade smacks my hand, the impact ringing all the way up my arm causing my dagger to fall from my hand. I curse. My trainer would be shaking his head right now and chastising me. _Your sword must become an extension of your arm. You cannot drop your arm child_. Well I just did. Now I'm fighting five men with one dagger.

"Zeus! To Me!" I call. I hear his bark a small distance away as I parry two more swings and dodge the arc of a third. They have me on the defensive now and they know it. The five men are laughing as I block one swing, parry another, and flip out of the way of two more. Every movement becomes a dance and a game of how many attacks I can avoid before they finally overwhelm me.

It doesn't take them long. My attempts to keep my back to the wall fail when one sneaks past me. I feel the cold sting of their steel slice across my back and I cry out as I drop to my knees. Another blade slices up my side and a third across my collarbone. Pain explodes across my face, making me see stars as the boot connects with my jaw. I fall to the ground, seeing white. There is weight on top of me and more pain across my face, sharp bursts mixing with dull aches. Through the blood rushing past my ears I can make out laughter and muttering. My head lulls to the side, consciousness slipping through my fingers as my eyes refuse to open. Even through the fog clouding my mind I know what is happening. I am dead. Or soon will be. Maybe Bethany will be waiting for me… if I could laugh bitterly I would; Fenris was right, I am reckless.

There is a sharp bark followed by a scream that is abruptly cut off. A war cry echoes off of the walls and I worry for a moment that I might have finally left the world of the living because it is a war cry I recognize. _Fenris._ _I am imagining this_ , I think. _Or I am dreaming_? _Either way I don't want to wake up_. I try to open my eyes and am assaulted by blurring shapes and sharp bright lights that have my head splitting in two. A weight lifts from my chest. There are a flurry of footsteps, the ringing of steel on steel, the sound of metal finding flesh and after a series of grunts, curses and screams, it becomes silent.

My heart beats wildly and I try to get up and crawl away blindly only the have my head burst into agony at the tiniest movement. I don't hear my mabari but I hear someone approach me. Breathing hard I try to back away and fail miserably. I open my eyes and my head erupts in a throbbing pulse as if someone is banging a drum inside my mind. I force my eyes to stay open even though everything is a churning mess of colors and shadows that makes my stomach heave. My vision can make sense of nothing but I do see the dark figure above me. _Please, let it be Fenris._ He falls to his knees and I feel a cool, hard callused hand touch my face briefly. I stifle a moan and hear him sigh in relief. A tightness in my chest eases.

"I knew you were lying." He says by way of greeting. "You fidget when you lie." I have never been so glad to see him but also so uneasy. Why did _he_ have to save me? He already thinks I'm weak and liable to turn into a monstrosity at any moment.

"How?" I get out through another groan.

His fingertips brush my forehead; a prickling sensation follows the trail of his fingers. I wince. "A young woman with a child stopped me, overheard me asking around. They said they saw you disappear into the sewers." I open my eyes into slits, trying to see him clearly and even that small movement makes my head throb more. He pauses while he grabs something out of his pack. A dark liquid - or at least I think it's a dark liquid because I can't see anything clearly -swirls in a vial as he pulls the top off. His free hand caresses the back of my neck and tilts my head up. My skin comes ablaze with something I don't recognize although it could be my quickly diminishing state of mind.

"Drink," he says and puts the rim to my lips. I drink greedily. His head is leaning over mine now, his features blurring when he moves to quickly and we are so close it's distracting. "I know what you are doing, Hawke," he says, but his voice contains no reprimand like I expect it too. "Keeping your friends at a distance will not solve anything."

My body burns and slowly my vision clears completely although the gash in my side still stings something awful. My face feels bruised and my body sore but the throbbing in my head has abated.

His green eyes bore into mine and he is frowning at me, I can see that now. "It's all I have."

He gently puts my head down and again his fingers gently touch a spot above my eyebrow, grazing one of the bruises that remain. Such a small gesture and it feels like my skin is on fire where he has touched me. _Why? Why do I feel like this? Why does he make me feel…alive?_ I stare up at him and I know I must look puzzled because I don't understand this person that kneels beside me. Then his fingers float over my body, checking the rest of my wounds. I am dreaming, I must be dreaming because in real life Fenris would never act like this. This pretender gently prods and pokes the rest of my body and seems satisfied.

"The potion has healed your major injuries it appears, although your side is not as healed as I would like, but it should suffice to get you out of here." He looks into my eyes and gently touches the bruise again, frowning when he does so. "It would be better to take care of your injuries now and I don't have any more potions." Everywhere his skin has touched mine is tingling, pulsing with electric currents that spark in the air between us.

A question lingers in my mind. After the Deep Roads expedition he disappeared, or not disappeared, but I never saw him. Every time we ran into each other by accident the conversation was awkward and halting. I assumed he wanted to keep his distance now that he knew I was a mage… _am_ a mage. I would have liked to talk to him but conversation is never easy between us and often ends up in anger. That was the reason I went to Anders after everything that had happened. I thought he would be the only one who would understand.

My question comes out resentful. "Why did you come after me? If you knew I was lying why come after me?"

He's scowling again but I get the distinct impression it is not at me but at himself. He looks up and around the cavern avoiding my eyes. "I don't know," he says to no one in particular, "But you shouldn't get yourself hurt out of pure stubbornness."

"Stubbornness," I say sarcastically and wince when a stab of pain ignites in my side. "You're one to talk."

His head whips back down, his eyes locking with mine again and the intensity renders me speechless. "I may be stubborn but I also know when I need help." He snaps back. "You, on the other hand, persist in this useless, reckless behavior that will get you killed."

"I am not reckless," I say, but it is more from my need to deny him than from what I believe.

He sighs and his brow becomes furrowed as his hand brushes across my forehead again making my skin flare with heat. An innate behavior almost takes hold when a need to lean into his hand and touch his skin with my own fingers overwhelms me, but I know it will stop this unfamiliar tenderness that he now treats me with. Mistakenly my breath comes out in a long sigh of contentment. I don't understand why he keeps touching me but I know I don't want him to stop. He groans a little and squeezes his eyes shut, then with a sudden jerking movement pulls his hand back and opens his eyes to glare at me.

"Stop pulling on me," he snarls.

I am taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor. "What?"

He gets up abruptly and looks down at me with contempt. "I am not your toy. I was one once, I will not be again."

I have no idea what he is talking about but I can see the rage simmering below the surface of his eyes. _What did I do?_ I sit up slowly, ignoring the lance of pain in my side and waiting for a pounding in my head that thankfully doesn't come. "I'm not sure what you're talking about," I mutter.

He makes a disgusted sound deep in his throat. "You're a mage," he remarks coldly.

My confusion begins to turn to anger. "So I am told," I retort. "Perhaps you would like to enlighten me as to what in the void you are talking about?"

He starts pacing back and forth. I am beginning to realize this is something he does when his hate is riding him and he is trying to control it. Sighing, I pull my knees into my chest only to stifle a groan when agony so sharp erupts in my side. I decide to unfold myself instead and try to move as little as possible. I'm too mentally exhausted for this right now. The shit was just literally beat out of me by a bunch of thugs and now he wants to talk semantics.

"I told you in the Deep Roads. You pulled lyrium from me. You did it again, from the moment I first touched you." I feel my face drain of color but I say nothing. He stops his pacing when he reaches my feet and kneels down in front of me again. "You really don't know you're doing it?" he asks, and his voice is almost…hopeful?

I shake my head and feel sick, but not from the beating I just got. "Does it hurt?"

He stares at me for a long moment and I am surprised when he almost laughs and gets to his feet. His arm reaches behind his head to scratch the back of his neck with a motion that makes him look uncomfortable. "No… No it doesn't." It's something in his voice that gives it away though. It must feel good. Really good.

"Did Danarius do it to you too?" I don't know what makes me ask it because I know it will just upset him again.

His face twists with scorn, "Yes, all the time. It’s why I was created this way. A living and breathing source of lyrium." I nod and say nothing. I don't know what to say to that but I understand his revulsion to me now. I would be repulsed too if I were in his place.

"Sorry," I mumble. "I'll ask Anders to help me control it. Maybe he knows how."

He makes a small revolting noise, "The less time you spend with the abomination the better. He won't help you. He can't even help himself."

I glare up at him and slowly get to my feet, grinding my teeth with each small lance of pain, until we are eye to eye. "There is nothing wrong with Anders."

The elf sneers, "He is corrupted by a demon he can't even control."

"It isn't a demon," I snap back at him but my voice comes out unsure.

One of his eyebrows lifts in a high arch and he crosses his arms over his chest. He acts as if he has won this argument. "It doesn't matter. He is too weak," he says.

"He is not weak!" and I am practically screaming at him now.

"Compared to you, yes, he is," he says, voice containing no inflection of emotion.

I take a few steps back, staring at him horrified. Ice fills my veins and my face falls slack. "How do you know?"

His scowling, brooding demeanor is back and it's almost comforting in a way. "Danarius has been the only mage I have known that can do it."

"Oh." I feel contaminated now somehow, as if just being compared to such a reviled person as him could make me bad. I can't even look at him, I feel disgusting. "I understand now why you stay away from me. Why you've stayed away from me these last few years."

I glance at him quickly then back away. His expression changes so rapidly that I can't read it. "Don't say that," he says, and it comes out in almost a whisper.

Leaning on the wall next to me I cross my arms in discomfort and look up at him again. "Then what should I say?"

He falters then shakes his head. "That isn't the reason." He sighs and turns away back towards the entrance to this hideaway. "Will you come back with me or do you insist on finishing this venture right now?"

I grab my daggers and throw them across my back and whistle for Zeus who must have wandered off sometime during this whole debacle. The pain in my side has abated some and I think I might be able to finish this before healing becomes a priority. "I'd rather finish it now before Varric and Anders come looking for me," I say. Fenris isn't happy with this decision; however he takes his sword out and waits for me to take the lead. Zeus comes trotting up, stopping when he reaches my side. I pause before I say the next words, "You aren't coming either."

With one lighting quick motion and display of strength his sword strikes into the ground and sticks there. "Void take you. You are not doing this by yourself!" he shouts at me.

I am momentarily stunned by his outburst since I don't understand it. "You can't stop me," I tell him. He is visibly agitated now, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Then it occurs to me that he came down here by himself when he could have told any of the others that I was lying. But he came down here by himself. Why? "Why didn't you bring anyone else?" I ask.

The question startles him but he answers rather quickly. "Varric was passed out. Isabela..." and he shrugs, "probably in someone's bed. I will not ask the abomination or that blood mage and as for Aveline, she has enough to handle."

The answer seems simple enough, although I find myself wishing the answer were different. "Oh," is all I can think to say. I am shocked by just how much I wish the answer to that question were different. That he came because he wanted to be alone with me. I almost choke with laughter at my own preposterousness. If he ever wanted me back then, he certainly would not now. Fenris would never want a mage. After a long stretched out silence I say, "I don't want you getting hurt on my behalf Fenris. I've lost too much already."

He frowns, determination setting his features in a hard line. "I know you think what happened to your sister is your fault but it isn't. It was her choice to come. You can't change that."

Tears start to well in my eyes and I find myself not wanting to be here anymore. If I keep going he will follow whether I let him or not but if I go back at least this conversation will end. I start walking back and don't wait for him to follow, Zeus trailing at my side. The sound of a sword being sheathed reaches my ears and I know he is rushing after me.

I stare forward unwilling to meet his eyes when he reaches my side. "When are you going to stop running and start living?"

That comment stops me in my tracks and heats my blood to almost boiling. He almost walks past me at my abrupt stop and turns back towards me. "When am _I_ going to stop running?" I ask in exasperation. "Are you really asking me that?" I glare at him in disbelief. "You've done nothing but run your entire life. If you aren't running physically you certainly are mentally. You've managed to free yourself from slavery but you are not _free._ In fact, after three years I have to say I'm shocked your still here. Why haven't you left to find another hole to hide in?" I blurt out. As soon as I say the last sentence I regret it. But it is already too late.

His expression turns hateful. "You have no idea what I've been through," he spits at me. "Yes I am running because I have no idea what else to do. I don't know how to start over, not while Danarius still lives. I didn't even know what happiness was until I-" he abruptly cuts off, as if he is about to tell me something he doesn't want me to know. He growls in irritation and looks away, "I've had to run my entire life, what little I can remember, or risk losing my sanity. I've never had a home or a family to turn to. I have my revenge. Without that… I have nothing." His voice contains so much malice and pain that the guilt strikes home in my heart and I can't look at him. I remember the visions I saw on the Expedition even though I've wanted to forget them. Forget that entire trip, in fact. I realize with sudden clarity that he is right, I am running. I have been running for the last three years. But I don't know how to stop.

I gaze up at him again and he is seething in anger. "I'm sorry." I say, trying to convey all of my sorrow at blowing up at him with those words. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

His anger wanes but the pain of my outburst remains. "I know you're running because I look in the mirror and see the same thing every day. But you have your mother. You have a home. And you have people who care about you."

_Do you care about me?_ I think, but the words never leave my mouth. "I can't, Fenris." I wrap my arms around me, feeling vulnerable. "If something happened to _you_ I don't know what I would do," I say before I can stop myself. Panic grips my chest and my eyes widen slightly. _Oh Maker, what did I just say? Why did I say that? What will he think?_ I quickly recover and say, "Aside from my mother, you and the others are all I have. I can't lose anyone else. I can't survive what I went through with Bethany again. I just can't. I've lost my father, my brother and my sister," uttering those words is like a stab in the heart and I have to stop and take a few breaths before continuing. "I'll lose my mind if anyone else dies because of me." I am cold, but it has nothing to do with the temperature. It's a cold that seeps into my bones and makes me weak, zapping my strength. _I want to go home_. I shake my head, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be burdening you with this."

"Why not?" he asks, but his voice contains something that I do not expect. _Hurt? Is he actually hurt that I do not confide in him?_ The idea seems impossible to me. Anders has been my only confidant since the trip. The only one I know won't judge me for what I am. Fenris will. Because of his prejudice he will never be able to see past the fact that I am a mage. He will always be looking for my betrayal. I look over at him, his gaze shifts, green eyes changing colors in the flickering light. I study his expression, looking for the judgmental arrogance I expect him to have but it isn't there. There is so much I want to say to him, so much I want to know but none of it leaves my mouth. His stance shifts but his stare does not as he waits patiently for my answer. _Does he even still affect me the same way he did three years ago?_ Watching him gaze intently back at me I feel my heart begin to pound in my chest and I have my answer. There is a part of me that wishes nothing more than to coat myself in his body, feel his bare skin slide against my own and see if that current that electrifies between us can fill that piece of my soul that I've been missing. It is a part I don't recognize as I've never felt that burning sensation with anyone else, that flame that threatens to consume me from the inside out and leave nothing but ashes behind. _Could I survive him? Can I survive by myself_? I don't know. I just don't know.

I whistle for my mabari and when he reaches my side I kneel by his ear and tell him to go home. He doesn't need to hang around while we talk. Zeus trots ahead, leaving the two of us behind to figure the other out. When I get back to my feet I find Fenris still waiting for the answer to his question. I shake my head in response. I'm not sure why I don't confide in him I suppose I just assume he won't understand and its easier this way. Easier all around if I don't, so I begin to head back the way I came. "Why do you care?" and the question comes out more belligerent than I intend.

His expression hardens, lips pressing into a thin line. "I suppose I shouldn't…" he says as we walk and I wait for the end of the sentence. But nothing ever comes.

"So that's it? You shouldn't?" I roll my eyes, twirling my dagger in the air out of annoyance. Definitely easier this way.

He scowls, "No I shouldn't. You're a mage and someday you will give into the desire for power, _or worse_."

I growl in irritation as my scar begins to itch. "I have no intention of ever using my magic, even if I could learn to harness it, which I can't."

He looks over at me skeptically as we come to the stairs that lead to Darktown. "So you've tried using it?"

My jaw hardens and the next words come out barely audible. "Yes, to no avail."

His eyes narrow at me, "And who taught you?" he asks, before realizing it was a stupid question. "That _abomination_ ," he says scornfully. "What do you see in the demon harboring scum?"

"That is none of your business," I snap and push past him as we come to the top of the stairs.

I slide my daggers back into their sheaths and push open the trap door. There will be no need for them now although I would like to have something to grip tightly to stop my hands from trembling. I am angry now. It is not so much his remark but that on top of it all Anders rejected me. I have nothing to throw back in the elf's face, because even an abomination doesn't want me. The dark alleys of this town are bustling with people as I weave between them. Hoping perhaps I will lose my shadow in the process I pick up my pace until I am almost dancing as I slither and slink between people although the effort is costing me, pain throbs in my side. Every muscle of my body twists and pulls and shoots lines of agony through me. I am definitely not healed. And through it all I feel the elf behind me, following right on my heels, as if there is some invisible string attached between us that keeps us together. The thought is maddening.

I wheel on him as we reach the rickety lift. "Are you going to follow me all the way home?" I ask, indignant.

He stares at me for a moment. "Yes, at least until you can take another potion and get the rest of your wounds healed," he says, eyeing the bruises on my face.

I groan, get in the elevator and wait for him to get in. As soon as he steps in I throw the sash down, groaning slightly with the pain it causes and pull up the lever. Its creaks and groans as the chains pull us upward. I lean against one wall, doing my best to ignore the elf that stands beside me and the pain that twinges with every movement. My arms are crossed in front of my chest and I can feel the scowl on my face. We must look like twins because he wears much the same expression. In midrise the lift bangs and jolts suddenly, coming to a dead stop. I look up through the fencing and gears.

"You have got to be kidding me!" I yell at the ceiling.

Fenris snorts. My eyes flick to him to find him smirking at the ground. "Something funny?" I ask, in a huff.

He shakes his head, "Fate," he says. "She is laughing at us."

My teeth grind together. "Not for long she isn't," I mutter, grasping the door and hiking it open. I think, _I will haul my ass out of here if I have to_. Studying the ceiling of the elevator for a good opening I spot a small gap in the corner that I should barely be able to squeeze myself through. I jump and grab the top, wincing as I feel muscles pull and tear that aren't supposed to. Something rips and I feel warm liquid leak down my side. Pulling myself up I struggle to get one arm over the edge, feet kicking wildly in the air just as a quick searing pain shoots up my side and I lose my grip. I fall to the ground and groan.

He kneels at my side hiking up my shirt to get a look at my torso. "As I said, she is laughing." I pull my shirt down sharply, hissing with a lancing pain and our eyes meet. He sighs, "Hawke I need to look at your side."

I glare at him, "No you don't." Instantly my mind goes back to when he gently touched my bruised brow, thumb rubbing over my forehead leaving a trail of fire behind. I almost shudder with desire. _What is wrong with me?_

He leans back on his heels and rests his hands on his thighs, frowning. "Now you're just being difficult."

I sigh and let go of my shirt. _Not for the reason you think,_ I say silently. He would probably be repulsed if he knew what his touch does to me. I lean against the corner of the elevator as his fingers gently tug up my shirt. I stare at the opposite side of our six by six prison secretly reveling in every line of fire his fingers leave behind.

He curses in Tevinter softly and our eyes lock. "Your laceration has split open again and it's bleeding rather profusely."

I look down and see the blood trailing down my side and pooling on the floor, now that I've looked at the wound it begins to throb in time with my heartbeat. _Great, what do I do now?_

"Take off your shirt," he says.

"What?! No!" I blurt out.

He gives me a demeaning look, "Perhaps you would like to bleed to death then while we wait for the lift to work."

I growl, "Fine. You will need to take it off though." I lift my left arm first as my right arm is useless, and his hands grab the fabric and pull the sleeve as I remove my arm. I take it off my head and try to pull it down the other side but it requires too much twisting and I end up stifling a groan instead.

He comes closer to me, so close I feel the heat of his body. "Here let me," he says gently in my ear. His fingers skim the edge of my collar and trail down the length of my arm. My skin erupts in goose bumps and I shiver, then wince. I am down to my breast band now, the air cool against my heated skin. His eyes quickly flick over my body but he is a master at schooling his face when he wants to and I can't tell what he is thinking.

He backs up a little and starts ripping the cloth into thick strips. Giving me a wad of cloth he says, "Here apply this to the wound and press down hard." I do as he says and grunt with the pain that cuts up my side. Within minutes the cloth is soaked. With a few more strips he comes over on his knees again and leans in until our faces almost touching. I hold my breath at his closeness, not daring to breathe. His arms wrap around me to pass the first strip around and tie it to my side. I do my best to ignore the jolts of pain and electricity that shoot through me with every yank and subsequent touch. After my side is secured I stare at him and it's like staring through a haze. I blink a few times but it doesn't subside. My fingers and toes are starting to get numb and my head is getting fuzzy.

"Fenris," I say apprehensively. His eyes flick up to mine and his expression becomes alarmed. He curses in Tevinter again something I don't understand.

"You've lost too much blood and I can't staunch it completely." He curses more heavily again and looks down at the space between us for a moment like he is considering something. After a span of seconds he looks up at me again. "But you can heal it yourself."

I am staring at him uncomprehending. _He can't mean…_ With sudden clarity it hits me what he wants me to do. "No!" I say vehemently. I try to focus on him and fail. My vision is going in large gray splotches as if I am trying to look through a fog. _This isn't good._ "I am not Danarius." Although I mean the words to be scornful they only come out in a long whisper like I am falling asleep. I do feel sleepy, tired enough to fall asleep right here and now with Fenris watching over me. My eyes close momentarily.

"Hawke!" My eyes shoot open when a blinding pain strikes me across the face. My vision clears momentarily to find the elf kneeling over me with something boarding on panic written on his face.

"Whaddaya do that for?" The words come out slurred. I can't seem to make sense of the world around me. Streamers of colors and whenever I turn my head the world swirls. _Beautiful_ , I think and giggle uncontrollably.

"Damn it Cassandra, you are not going to die in front of me! Take the lyrium!" he shouts grabbing my arms.

_Die_? That one word brings the world into startling focus again. I gaze up at him, terrified. "Fenris," I say, his name squeezing my throat shut.

Our eyes lock. "Take the lyrium and stitch yourself up," He says calmly.

"I…I can't," I stutter. "I don't know how. I don't know the spell."

His grip tightens, "Yes you can. You don't need words. They are just a means to focus the energy. Just imagine your wounds stitching themselves up. Imagine the muscles healing and the bleeding coming to a stop."

He acts as if it is easy. I've tried accessing my magic and there is nothing there. I stare up at him. _I can't do this. How can I do this?_ Every attempt I've made in the past three years has ended in failure. _It won't work. It won't work._ I start to panic.

His hands squeeze my arms, "You can do this." There is such belief and determination in his voice that it slows my panic and lets me think. Is it really possible when every other time I've tried with Anders I've failed? Could Fenris help me learn what I am? I close my eyes and focus, ignoring the throbbing in my side. When are the times I have taken his lyrium? Whenever he touches me and I give myself over to the sensation and the emotion that accompanies it.

I try to get up to run my hands over him but my body won't obey, as if it is heavy and weighed down with many blankets, my side aching dully. It doesn't really hurt that much anymore. I am going into shock, I realize.

"Fenris," I whisper. "Touch me."

Silence, followed by, "I am touching you."

I want to roll my eyes. "Run your hands over my skin." I want to say caress but I think that will sound too sexual for him.

There is more silence but my vision doesn't want to make sense of what is before me. "Please," I beg.

There is the sound of metal clanging to the ground, followed by a few more pieces and then I feel the heat of his body next to mine. Hands run up my arms and my breath comes out in a sigh and I close my eyes. I feel something, like a trickle of vinegar flowing into my skin, burning and electrifying. But it isn't enough. "More," I say.

He shifts his weight to straddle my outstretched legs, his knees next to my hips. He is so close to me now that his smell and heat intoxicate me. He takes my hands and puts them on his sides. I slide them around to his back and find the thick brand that travels up his spine. My fingers follow its course, lines of searing flame shooting up my arms as he trembles under my touch. Is it pain or pleasure? I don't know. More lyrium seeps through my skin and concentrates in my core. My chest burns, my heart beating faster and faster and it confuses me because every time I have felt lyrium before it has not felt like this. This sensation is wholly different, like a fine glass of wine, similar to the aggregio he drinks, and comparing it to a crappy bottle of ale.

His hands wrap around my body, distracting my thoughts, and pull me to him. Our bodies press together and everywhere we touch my skin comes alive with heat. The power that seeps into me is like a drug, overwhelming every part of my body. My head lands on his bare chest and I hear the beat of his heart pounding like a drum. His hands snake patterns up and down my back faster and faster. My body is on fire, singing with energy and for the first time, in what has felt like ages, I am Alive. I want to drink him down until I can take no more. I want to revel in the power that courses through me. I can feel _everything_. Every tingle, every caress, every pain, every pleasure. I press my mouth to his chest just above his heart, my lips searing with the energy that pours into them. He moans but doesn't pull away. That's when I hear them, a thousand voices clamoring for attention, each one rising louder than the last. _Mother_ , they call to me. They sense me now, I know. They feel the power emanating from me. My arms circle the elf tighter.

"Heal it," Fenris says through a strangled breath.

I hesitate for a moment and realize that I never want to stop. I want to take it _all_ until my body is overflowing with power, humming with unbridled electricity. Is this what it feels like to be a mage? So much energy flowing through me until I feel my body will burst with it. For the first time I see just how easy it would be to let myself go and suck him dry. No wonder he thinks all mages are monsters. He knows the temptation having been on the other end of it. But I am not Danarius. I will show him another way. I close my eyes and concentrate on the power that burns like acid in my chest and turns my veins to ice. It try to grab onto it but it is like trying to hold sand in my fist, the tighter I grasp the faster it trickles through my fingers. I panic and open my eyes.

"Fenris it isn't working. I don't know how to hold it."

His arms shift around me but don't let go. "Magic requires patience and understanding. It does not respond to force, that will only make it leave you faster." My brow furrows and I wonder how he knows all of this. I focus on that ball of power again and call to it like I would call to a lover, persuading and seductive. It responds, pooling like mercury at the tips of my fingers, I want to laugh and cry because I did it, now I just need to use it.

I imagine my torn muscles stitching themselves together, blood flowing in healed veins, the deep laceration in my side closing little by little to reveal new, shiny pink flesh and I feel like I've slammed into a wall. For some reason it doesn't respond and I begin to panic again. I try again and again to harness it and let it go but every time it feels like I've run into a block in my core that it can't move beyond. My breathing gets louder until I'm panting with the effort and my vision consists of shadows and darkness. I'm going to pass out soon. I close my eyes and focus, feeling only the elf that I hold onto so desperately. He is my anchor, my stability. I think of our Deep Roads trip when we sat side by side in that dark hallway as I tried to get a grasp on this new reality of being a mage. He grounded me when I least expected it. He was there when he could just as easily have kept his distance. He came after me when my sister and Varric had let me go. Suddenly, like a jolt of electricity has struck me, I realize just how much he has remained like a guardian at my side. Regardless of what he has learned he is here, now, and I would be dead right now if it weren't for him. That imaginary wall bursts to flames like dried leaves and turns to ash. I gasp loudly as the magic pours forth and heals my wounds. The pain in my side is abating, the throbbing of my heart slowing, the bruises on my head healing until I feel like me again and through it all the voices call for me and I can't block them out. So I focus on the only thing I can, Fenris.

My breath flows out of me in one long sigh. Power still rides me but it is duller now than it was, like I am coming down from a high. I am still pressed to Fenris' chest and I don't want to let go, afraid to let go, as if I will never again have the chance to touch him so freely. Surprised he hasn't pushed me away yet; I open my eyes and take in the sight against my cheek. His brands are dark, an almost steely grey instead of their normal luminescent bluish silver. I did this to him, I realize, but just as I took it out of him I innately know I can put it back in.

He pulls away sitting back on his heels, moving like all his muscles are stiff and sore. For the first time I see him clearly without armor from the waist up. The brands swirl over his chest in intricate patterns, tracing every part of his body, following the major arteries and branching off into new ones. The effect is dazzling. I could gaze at him for hours and try to memorize the way every brand traces through his bronze skin. He doesn't make eye contact and starts to get to his feet, moving like he is exhausted. Did I do that to him?

"I weakened you," I say.

His eyes flick to me as he bends over to retrieve his armor. "I'll recover."

I get up, wanting so badly to close the distance between us, to feel his touch again. He backs away apprehensively and I pause.

"You don't trust me," I say sadly.

"This power will corrupt you if you let it," he remarks, but there is no harshness in his words, he is stating a fact. But he doesn't know what I intend to do. He doesn't know the voices I hear even now like a chorus in the back of my mind. I have to give it back. I have to cut myself off from the Fade.

"Well then, let me give it back to you," I say. His eyes narrow at me, already looking for my betrayal. "Please," I add.

"If you take too much I'll lose consciousness," he says.

"Well it's a good thing I don't plan on taking anymore then," I reply.

He sighs and puts his breastplate back down, staring at me warily. I see that he still doesn't believe that I will do as I say but stands there regardless and waits for me to come to him. I know how much trust he is placing in me right now, especially after what he has experienced at the hands of Danarius.

I come so close that we are only a few inches apart. He is clearly uncomfortable, standing rigidly before me. I try to catch his gaze but his eyes avoid mine. Placing my hands on his hips I slide them around his back, pulling him in an embrace. He doesn't move to return it but I feel him shudder and he doesn't try to push away. The lyrium in his brands hum beneath my fingertips and I can feel it wanting to leach from him, into me, should I let it. The prospect is so tempting, like an addict trying to avoid their drug of choice that sits right before them, but I don't want it, can't handle it. The voices are louder now that I am touching him and I feel them waiting. But what exactly they are waiting for I do not know. Breathing against his neck I run my hands up his back and begin to hum my aubade. Now that I know what is happening I feel the lyrium flow away from my core and what I always thought was the tension leaving my body was actually the lyrium finding its way back into the earth. But this time Fenris is the earth, he is my anchor. Breath hisses through his teeth and I worry for a moment that I am hurting him. It feels so amazing letting that power go, knowing the amount of trust he is putting in me not to pull it back out of him. Smoothing my fingers along his spine he moans and wraps his arms around me, bare skin gliding against mine, completing our embrace. The last of the energy leaves me and with it, the voices. My forehead is next to his cheek and just for a moment I feel his mouth graze my temple, lips pressing delicately to my skin between my eyes. I sigh.

"What have you done to me?" he asks, voice heavy with something I can't describe.

I lean back to look at him and his arms reluctantly let me go. He looks normal now, as normal as he ever does except for the expression he wears. He stares at me with something that borders on awe or surprise. I suddenly realize that I am fairly naked from the waste up aside from my breast band.

"What do you mean? I just wanted to give it back to you," I say, confused and embarrassed as I try to ignore the fact that I am half naked.

His eyes regard me warmly, "Nevermind. A conversation for another time perhaps." He looks away and smirks, grabbing his armor from the ground to latch it back on. My heart skips a beat just as the lift jerks into motion again. _What have you done to me_ , I think. Because now I can't get the feel of his lips pressed to my forehead out of my mind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably one of my favorite chapters of this story so far. The idea came unexpectedly and is a pivotal point in their relationship. Anyway hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. More to come!! Make sure to leave your comments. I love reading them :) Oh and musical motivation for this one, "Believe" by Mumford and Sons and "Who Are You Really" by Mikky Ekko.


	9. Fall in Love

I'm staring at the canopy of my bed, trying to get the motivation to begin my day. The sun has been up for a while now as its rays create a large slash of bright light across my bedroom floor. A cool breeze comes in through my open window, making me shiver and reminding me that autumn is on the way. I've spent the last few hours rehashing the events of the last few days - what happened after Fenris taught me how to heal, in particular.

After the escapades in the bowels of Darktown and my miraculous healing, I went and attained some new clothes. The stares and whispered insults from the nobility that had followed me on the way were most entertaining, especially with the elf keeping step at my side. It was a new feeling, light and airy, like nothing in the world could touch me, not while he was there. I am smiling again and I can't seem to stop myself from doing it.

We talked for a long while after that, drinking and joking, even flirting. Then he got introspective and told me of Danarius, the Fog Warriors and how he killed them all on a simple command from his former master. At first I thought that the drink was just loosening his tongue but the more he told me the more I realized that he was completely sober. My dislike of him had colored over everything for so long, hiding what was amiable so all I could see was the darkness, the beast in him. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps it was just my desire to get to know him more but we talked without bickering for longer than I can remember and it was…. nice, but that one word seems horribly inadequate. We flirted, we stared at each other, we shared stories and I could see that I had been too quick to judge. I never really thought of myself as a prejudiced person. I mean, live and let live was my mentality, but somehow being with him makes me notice all the flaws in my logic. Pushing me to the limits of my beliefs and then over the edge of my tolerance. So there it is, I was prejudiced, sad but true. I better understand him now that he has finally opened up to me, trusting me with something so personal. Of course with a few glasses of wine on my part, I didn't think when I said some of the things I said. " _You can tell me anything, I love listening to you talk_." _Who says that?_ He must think me a babbling idiot. The fact that it is true doesn't help anything. I could listen to him talk all day. There was something about his voice, dark, sexual, alluring. I smile to myself again and fling an arm over my eyes.

Varric, Anders and Aveline had eventually found me at his place. The dwarf had thought it hilarious, the guard captain had been annoyed with me, and the former Warden, well, I'm still trying to figure that one out.

I told them what happened and what I did. The conversation had not been a pretty one…

"You _healed_ yourself?" Aveline said. The group of them facing Fenris and myself in his mansion.

I looked at the ground tapping my lips with my fingertips trying to describe what happened. "Honestly, I'm really not sure how I did it. Fenris-" and I was cut off.

"What does the elf have to do with this?" Anders asked, his tone hostile, and I wasn't able to avoid his eyes any longer. He was angry, very angry.

I tilted my head to the side, regarding him sternly. "Anders before you start insulting Fenris you need to know that he saved me."

His hand gripped his staff more tightly, his stance stiff. "Had you not lied to us I doubt you would have needed saving in the first place."

I sighed and looked down at the ground. He was probably right. Although interestingly enough, Fenris was the only one that knew my ticks and knew that I was lying. How does Anders not know when I've probably spent five times the amount of time with him? Does he not pay attention? Was he so focused on saving mages that nothing else mattered? "You're right," I said. "I lied to keep you all safe, to stop anyone from getting hurt because of me. I did it and it's done. It won't happen again. I think Fenris would beat me himself if I did."

"He wouldn't be the only one," muttered both Aveline and Varric and it still pulled a smile from my lips. It was nice having people care about you. I was beginning to see maybe by cutting them out I was still hurting them anyway, Fenris was proof enough of that. I had been so blind.

This did not placate Anders though. "How did you heal yourself?" he demanded. It was a tone he had never used with me before, angry and unrelenting. I heard it used against others in his moments when Justice peaked through but never with me. It infuriated me. I didn't like being the target.

Fleetingly, I looked over at Fenris before I gestured to him and said, "He taught me how." And I knew Anders wouldn't like it, that it would just provoke him. Especially since we spent many fruitless days with him trying to teach me the mechanics while Fenris had managed it in a matter of minutes.

The former Warden scoffed, "He knows nothing of magic, or being a mage."

Fenris rose to this bait. "I know more than you think," he snarled.

I was almost smug at the elf's outburst but I knew this would end nowhere good. Anders regarded him coldly, crossing his arms over his chest, "Yes, we all know you were owned by and evil magister who treated you cruelly thus making you hate every mage in existence."

"Not every mage," Fenris said, and his gaze locked with mine briefly before he looked back at Anders.

Anders eyes flicked to me, and then back to the elf. He looked ready to explode and yet under that laid the pain of Fenris' confession, then with a great shudder that racked his shoulders he shut down, his eyes going distant, resigned.

Varric, who has watched this whole exchange with interest finally interceded, "So you can use magic now, Hawke?

I shrugged, "I guess so. I haven't tried it with normal lyrium."

"Then how did you…" Aveline asked, clearly confused.

I glanced at Fenris who stood closely beside me, regarding our other three companions. _When did he get so close?_ He was four feet away during the beginning of the conversation. _Did he come closer to me when Anders got angry? Was he…guarding me?_ Warmth swelled in my chest and I had to look away.

"I gave it to her," he said in answer to Aveline's question. "It's what my brands were made for."

She looked over at him. "You can do that?" she asked, disbelieving.

"Not of my own volition," and there was something in his voice that showed his abhorrence. I glanced at him, heartbeat picking up in response to his possible rejection.

Anders interjected before anyone could say anything. "She can't possibly take the lyrium from your brands, to do that she would have to be extremely…" and he faltered, "powerful."

Fenris didn't say anything, just glared at Anders.

Varric raised an eyebrow, "More than you, I take it."

The former Warden was staring at me, staring at me like he didn't know who I was. "Aye," he said, eyes shifting briefly to Varric. "I didn't even think it was possible until I met the elf and seen his brands first hand, and yet I still didn't believe that any mage was powerful enough to use it," he paused and looked back at me. "Until now."

I couldn't help but fidget nervously. I don't like being talked about like I was some kind of freak. No one does.

"Okay, this is great and all, but really it has no bearing in any circumstance because I gave the lyrium back," I said.

"You what!?" Anders exclaimed.

I felt like even more of a freak.

"Surprised?" Fenris said smugly. "You wouldn't be so willing, would you?"

From the look on the former Warden's face he wouldn't. He stared at me again, like he couldn't figure me out.

"I can't believe… why would you… how could you…" he shook his head in exasperation.”You willingly let it go. Every other mage on Thedas is struggling to hold miniscule amounts of lyrium to control their magic and you willingly give up more than any one mage will see in the course of a year."

"What do you mean _a year_?" I asked.

Fenris responded to my question before Anders did. "He is referring to the amount of lyrium you can hold inside you without it driving you mad or just killing you." When I still look confused he continued, "The lyrium in my markings is in a more pure form than you will get from any potion. Hence the reason why only the most powerful can handle it without being killed."

"And you let me take it from you when it could have killed me?" I said, incensed.

"You would have died if I didn't. Would you have preferred I left you there leaking out your life's blood hoping for a miracle?" he stated, as if that somehow makes it okay. I understood his reasoning but it still roiled inside me like a snake, poisoning me slowly.

He sighed and looked at me. "I had to try. I couldn't just let you…" and he trailed off.

"What? _Die?_ " Anders retorted. "Suddenly you have a soft spot for mages now or just Hawke?" There was so much jealously in his voice and I didn't understand why because he willingly turned me down.

Fenris' eyes narrowed, "Had the rolls been switched you would have bled out, Abomination."

"Glad to hear we are on the same page, Dog," said Anders, derisively.

I'm starred at the two of them and I didn't know what to say. Fenris just made an admission of sorts and Anders was startling me with information I never knew. I didn't know what I was doing I just wanted to give it back to Fenris so he could learn to trust me and to make the voices in my head stop. For a second, I swore I could hear them, like music that trailed on the wind, distant and muffled but there. I shook my head. I needed to start singing my aubade again. I didn't want to hear them, I was afraid of what they would do to me. What they even were. I desperately needed guidance and somehow I didn't think Anders would be a smart choice anymore, but what choice did I have. I would not go to Merrill who used blood magic with impunity and Bethany was gone. Who else was there to ask, who else wouldn't automatically throw me in the Circle for telling them such things. Could I trust Fenris with such admissions?

"Hawke?" Anders said, apprehensively. I must have tuned out part of the conversation for all four of them were looking at me with concern.

"I'm fine." I waved a hand dismissively, my fingers fidgeting at my side. Fenris was staring at me, and at my fidgeting hands. I made myself go still in front of them. "Really I'm fine, just a lot to take in, that's all." The other three nodded and seemed to accept my excuse. Fenris, however, did not. His lips thinned to a hard line but he remained silent.

Anders was looking at me almost excitedly, as if something wonderful had just occurred to him. "Do you think you could do it again? Do you think you could take it again?" he asked.

Fenris was ready to explode and before he could snap I said, "I don't want to, Anders. I gave it back for a reason. No one person should feel so…" and I struggled for the word, "godlike."

Anders looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "But think of all the good you could do. Think of what you could do for the mages of this city. You could single-handedly usurp the tyranny in Kirkwall. You could overthrow the Templars, set all mages in the Circle free."

I had to be careful with what I said next because I know what that power tasted like, I still wanted it even now but the voices scared me and it was enough to hold me back. No mage should think themselves so all-powerful but at the same time they shouldn't all be locked up in the Circle either. This was a very slippery slope in either direction.

"Anders, I don't think anyone should hold that kind of power. Think of the problems it could cause should it get into the wrong hands. Look at Danarius and what he did to Fenris. The love of power can only lead to corruption. Maybe Danarius was once like me or you and became so twisted that he lost his grip on what is right and what is wrong."

Anders still didn't get it and he may never get it. He did, after all, take in a spirit of justice to forward his own means. But truthfully I was scared more than anything of what it would do to me and that’s why I wouldn’t do what he was asking. I sighed and Anders opened his mouth to object but I cut him off.

"Anders, I will not subject Fenris to any whims of yours. I gave it back for a reason. I don't want it." That in itself was a lie because I did want it. I wanted it, craved it, fought the impulse to take it even now.

His mouth snapped shut and he looked at me furious. "I thought you agreed with setting the mages free," he said, voice low and stern.

I looked at him imploringly, "Anders, I do. You know I do. Three years we’ve worked on setting them free and we will but I won’t use Fenris like that." _I won’t become like Danarius_ , I thought.

The mage looked at the other two for help, only to realize he wouldn't get it. His eyes then jerked in the elf's direction. "This is your doing," he said scornfully.

Fenris shifted his weight and crossed his arms, "Hawke makes her own choices," he said calmly, "you just happen to not like the answer this time."

Anders made an irritated growl, turned on his heel and stalked out. I listened to his pounding feet on the stairs as he released his frustration. I couldn't help but feel guilty even though I knew I made the right decision. _I did, right?_

Varric harrumphed. "Guess he isn't coming then," he said, pointing a thumb in the mage's direction.

"It would appear not," Fenris said, smirking.

The next day was filled with one hellishly smelly escapade tracking down a fanatic elf, further proving my point that mages weren't the only ones that could lose their minds. But then again everyone seems to be losing their damn minds as of late in this city. The next few days contained dragons and thieving scum although I did manage to pick up a book Fenris might like along the way. And during it all, Anders was absent.

Aveline said he was acting like a three year old. She also said I needed to go talk to him which I don't relish doing, but, all in all, she approved of my decision. She had enough issues with the guard as it was. She didn't need another problem. Varric, well, we all know the dwarf's stance on opinions when it came to Mages and Templars.

A knock comes at my door.

I sit up. "Come in," I say.

"I beg your pardon, messere," Bodahn says, poking his head into the room, "but a letter just arrived of an urgent nature that I thought would be of concern to you."

_Aren't they all?_ "Hmm, Ok," I fall back down on the bed and gesture to the bureau. "Leave it on the dresser."

Bodahn shuffles in, places the note on my bureau, and lets himself out.

I sigh, roll out of bed, grab my house robe off the hook and wrap it around me for warmth, wishing for the warmth of a certain elf's arms instead, and open the note.

_Please come see me today as soon as you wake up._

_A_

Anxiety settles in the pit of my stomach. _What will he want to talk to me about? Will he try to convince me to use Fenris again, not that the elf would let me willingly? Will he want to talk about my…abilities? Will he want to know if I have feelings for Fenris?_ I shake my head to clear my mind. The last thought is ridiculous. He shouldn't even care how I feel about Fenris. In fact, he doesn't even know the details of what happened. What I had to do to heal myself. How we sat entwined with each other for an undetermined amount of time so I could take his lyrium, or the fact that he had been completely naked from the waist up.

My thoughts turn to the elf. It is amazing how besotted I've become. It's been maybe a day since I've seen him and in those twenty-four hours I've thought of him nonstop. It was a welcome distraction but also not a healthy one to have in battle. There have been too many times in the last few days that I have gotten injured because of this obsessive madness.

I drop the note back on the dresser and try to ignore the twisting in my gut. I can't avoid Anders forever, at some point I will need to deal with it. It might as well be now. I take my time getting ready but it seems like matter of moments before I stand in front of my mirror braiding the front of my hair out of my face. I tie the last piece back and stand there, staring. There is no more procrastinating now.

I shrug on my jacket against the cool air and head out the door, thoughts of Fenris and Anders bouncing around in my head.

I stand just inside the doorway to Anders' clinic ten minutes later, watching him heal a woman. He is so focused that he doesn't notice me walk in and I am able to stare for a time remembering why I fell for him in the first place. But looks aren't everything. The night I asked him to stay with me seems ages ago, not three nights ago. My whole mind seems to have warped in another direction since then. My thoughts are consumed with Fenris, my dreams as well. So it appears whether I am awake or asleep I am thinking of the elf. It is a distraction I am not accustomed to, something I can't make sense of. I've never been so consumed with anyone before, not even Anders.

When he finishes I start walking towards him as the woman thanks him profusely and walks out. When he spots me I smile, but the smile is forced and unreal. He is completely drained, I see, dark circles pulling at his eyes, his complexion sallow and he doesn't seem happy to see me. Not like he used to be anyway. My heart pangs and I wish forlornly for the days when he looked at me so different, when he was at least happy to see me. Now he tracks my steps frowning, and the smile that I am trying so hard to maintain falls.

"Anders…" I begin.

"Hawke," he cuts me off, "I am only asking you here to see if you will help me with something. I don't expect you to since your views on mages have changed so drastically but regardless, I could use your skills."

I want to smack him because you would think that all the work we have done over the last three years meant nothing, all the people we freed just so much water under the bridge. "Anders," I try again, pleading with my eyes. "If I could free every mage without bloodshed I would do it now, but I just think that this method of using Fenris is too risky. You are liable to cause more of a problem instead of solving it. What if the Templars react aggressively?" I pause, "What if they force the Rite of Tranquility on every mage?" and I pull back my shirt to reveal my Tranquility scar for emphasis. His eyes go to my scar seemingly against his will. I soften my voice, "Would you want to be the cause of that? More death is not the answer. We need to find a better way. We help the mages to get freedom from the Circle. We give them the opportunity to escape. We do the best we can for them. That is the whole reason, right?"

His breath lets out in a long sigh and he smiles slightly. "I am glad to hear you say that. I thought perhaps the elf had turned you against me, against our cause."

"Anders, if anything I am turning him."

He scoffs, "An impossible task."

I nod and smile to myself with the thought, "Possibly."

He frowns, "You're taken with him. I can see it."

I open my mouth to object and he looks at me sternly. I close it again. It is better to avoid this question all together so I ignore it and change the subject. "So what did you want me for? Did you manage to get yourself in trouble again or are you planning to go to the Gallows dungeons already?" I joke trying to break the tension.

For a second I think it won't work, that he will press me on my newly discovered feelings for Fenris but then surprisingly his face changes, he raises and eyebrow, and smirks making him look devious and all too alluring. "Me," he says, innocently. "No, I never get in trouble," but then his expression becomes serious. "I would like to take care of this as soon as possible though. The thought of another mage being at Alrik's mercy turns my stomach."

I nod my head in agreement. "I'm thinking maybe we should have Isabela come with us since she hasn't been out the last two days" and then I added hesitantly, "and Fenris as well." Anders groans but says nothing.

"If we end up fighting Templars we will need his brute strength and seeing how Aveline is busy catching up on sleep after helping me and running the city guard, I don't think we have much choice," I explain trying to defend my decision. Besides I can only handle so much of Aveline's stoic law abiding attitude, at least with Fenris you got some sort of snarky remark or at least the pleasure of listening to his voice.

"Alright," he consents, begrudgingly.

Three hours and many outbursts later, the four of us find ourselves standing in a doorway where we can see the backs of many Templars surrounding a young woman who appears to be a mage.

"Are you sure about this?" Isabella whispers.

I shrug, "I'm not sure they will give us much choice once we show ourselves."

"Yes, let's charge in there and save the poor mage. The Templars have no reason at all to worry about her becoming an abomination like the one standing next to me."

This expedition is not going well. I didn't think having Anders and Fenris travel together would be as big a deal since the elf and I seem to have a new trust in each other but it has not stopped the bickering. I try my best not to get involved but I forgot just how much we don't agree on, and freeing mages is one of them.

I glance back at the two men in question before retorting, "This woman is being forced into Tranquility. I got lucky in retaining my humanity or have you forgotten. She will not be so lucky."

"How do you know?" He snarls, "Maybe they have a right to take her!" and Isabela smacks him to be quiet. He wants to say more I can see but settles for a disgruntled sound instead.

Shifting my eyes to Anders expecting to hear some kind of additional retort, I pause. What I see is a man drowning in rage. He has eyes only for the Templars ahead of us, anger building like a coming storm. An eerie blue line begins to outline his hazel eyes. Justice is struggling for control. A man is talking and I turn my head back to the group ahead of us.

"That's a lie. What do we do to mages who lie?" the Templars voice crawls down my spine making the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This must be Alrik. My entire body wants to shake just to get rid of the feeling. Talk about maxing out the creep-o-meter.

"I just wanted to see my mum. No one ever told me where they were taking me," the young girl pleads. I can see it is a fruitless effort as the group of men close in on her.

Anders pushes past me, going through the doorway. I hiss after him but he doesn't hear me, or worse, is ignoring me. Anders whole body begins to tremble and he illuminates with a fluorescent blue light. Justice. Oh no. Anders is no longer in the driver's seat. I have seen this before but even then Anders had control of the spirit. That no longer seems to be the case. My breathing falls short as I pull out my daggers silently and enter behind him, waiting for them to turn around.

He cringes, whispering to himself. "No, this is their place. We cannot." The glow extinguishes and I exhale slowly. Crisis momentarily avoided but it leaves a seed of uncertainty in my gut. Anders had to fight to get control back.

The templar continues his long overdrawn tirade. "So you admit you attempted escape. You know what happens to mage girls who don't toe the line around here, don't you?"

"And people wonder why I advocate mage freedom, _"_ I mumble under my breath. Isabella snickers behind me and I glance back smiling. I can feel Fenris' eyes burning a hole in the back of my head. He can have his turn later.

"Wait, no!" the girl cries and falls to her knees, "Don't make me Tranquil. I'll do anything."

Maker, doesn't every woman know you never say _I'll do anything_ to a sinister looking man, much less a sinister looking Templar. Stupid, and of course this man who must be Alrik opens his mouth again.

"That's right; once you're Tranquil you'll do anything I ask," he sneers.

Wow, the sexual innuendo in that statement couldn't be any more obvious. I wonder if these bastards take a class where they teach you this egotistical monologue crap because every bad guy seems to do it.

"What are you doing to that girl?" I ask, more for their attention than to get an actual answer.

Anders erupts in a blue light that is momentarily blinding in its magnificence. "You fiends will never touch another mage again," he rages in a voice that does not belong to him. Justice has taken control and now they will all burn. For once I completely agree with Justice’s feelings on the matter

All the Templars pull out their swords, preparing to fight. Twirling my daggers in my hands and smiling, I wave the nearest templar my way. He charges with a wordless cry, sword raised high. I deflect the blow with a wave of my blade. A loud clash of steel on steel. Piercing him easily in the neck with the other. Blood squirts like a fountain in my face. Ick.

"One." I call out, wiping the blood off my mouth. I hear two more voices echo that word.

I frown as three more move my way. One is Alrik. They spread out, trying to box me in. My mouth stretches into a feral grin. They close in slowly.

"We will bleed you for this, mage lover," the one in front of me hisses.

I lean into a crouch. "I would love to see you try."

In a flurry of strikes I dispatch two more but my blades get lodged in the body of the second and I can't get them free. I turn just in time to dodge Alrik's blade. I yank again and again but they don't give way. He chuckles behind me as I now found myself dagger less. Putting my hands carefully in the air I face him and back up. He slows, making his way forward with a haunting gait, smiling gleefully at me.

"Not so dangerous without your blades are you?" he says, sneering. My eyes flick to the others. Anders is casting spells on a large group that Isabela and Fenris are finishing off one by one. They are occupied.

"Five," she shouts, while taking out another. "Six"

"Seven," the elf states and takes out two more, "Nine."

My eyes shift back to their almighty leader, "They can't help you now, little girl."

He thinks I am weak and helpless. I can play that role. I carefully kneel on the ground as if beseeching the great Sir Alrik. "Please sir," I plead putting my hands behind my back. Searching…

"That's right my dear. But kneeling to me won't help you now."

He bends over to grab me by the hair. I stand in one swift motion driving a knife into the gap in his armor. His mouth opens in a surprised 'O'.

"Next time just kill me, and then talk," I snarl.

Pulling the knife out I slice it across his neck, watching as the light leaves his eyes. Alrik's body crumbles and I sheath the knife. Going over to retrieve my blades I notice the others finishing the last of the Templars. I sigh. There are more supporters of this than I realize, a greater number missing that they will notice. This could be bad for us, very bad. After a few tugs I am able to dislodge my daggers. I am wiping the excess blood on the dead man's clothing just as Anders storms up to the Circle mage.

"They will die. I will have every last templar for these abuses." Justice’s deep voice yells, waving his staff in the air. Crap, why isn’t Anders’ gaining control again? Why doesn’t Justice back down? What is going on?

I sheath my blades and walk up slowly behind him, hoping I can get him to calm down. "It's over Anders. They're all dead," I say, soothingly.

He turns on me, his arm cutting the air. His eyes are completely engulfed with pale blue flames. He's completely lost control. "Every one of them will feel Justice's burn."

The young mage girl cowers. "Get away from me, demon!" she shrieks.

I groan when he turns back to her. Crap, why couldn't she just keep her mouth shut? He stalks towards her, his blue light highlighting her horrified face.

"I am no demon!" He roars. "Are you one of them, that you would call me such?"

Can't he see what is happening? Is Anders not there at all? "Anders that girl is a mage," I implore him. "We rescued her from being made Tranquil."

His head jerks back. "She is theirs. I can feel their hold on her." As he turns back to the young girl I can feel the fury building in the air making it hard to breath. Power…he is calling his magic. It crawls along my skin like thousands of fire ants, biting their way. I can feel the trickle of his power sliding along the earth and in a moment of clarity I realize I can steal it from him or at least disrupt the flow. But I try for reason one more time.

"She's the reason you're fighting Anders. Don't turn on her now," I demand.

The magic swirls around him as he prepares the spell to kill her. She shrinks to the ground begging for her life. "Please Messere."

The pressure builds like a hurricane but I can take it. I can control it. I close my eyes and pull on the lyrium he is channeling. It slows but still continues towards Anders. I realize I will have to touch him. I take a step and place a hand on his feathered shoulder. Instantly the lyrium jumps to me and everything around me comes alive. I gasp as he stumbles back, the tension snapping, and suddenly Anders is back in control. He shakes his head and falls to his knees. I blink several times but the feeling of electricity running in my veins doesn't leave.

"Maker, I almost… If you weren't here…" he struggles, seeing me for the first time since we entered the cavern. I look at him while I grasp for control, seeing the man behind the monster. I have to help him; I can't let Justice do that again.

"I need to get out of here," he says, gasping with his words. He runs past me and before I can utter a word, he's gone.

I close my eyes, leaning against the wall of the cavern. The magic isn't nearly as overwhelming as before but I know now that I am connected to the Fade. The voices speak in an endless litany, whispered conversations stealing my focus. What are they? Spirits? Demons?

I jerk from my position, startling both Fenris and Isabela. I need to get rid of them. The voices, the demons, will corrupt me. Falling to my knees, I begin singing my aubade although the tune is forced, the notes slightly off key with my trepidation, but it works. When it's over I hear nothing and let out a breath of relief.

"Well, that was interesting," says Isabela. "First Anders loses his grip on himself and now you falling to the ground and singing. You two sure do make these trips fun."

_Fun is not the word I would use for it_. But I keep the thought to myself.

Fenris is eyeing me carefully, frowning as he does so. Does he know what I hear when I am connected to the Fade? Would he help me even if he did? I don't know the answer to either and I am too afraid to ask. Someday I will need to confront this. I will need to read my father's journal and learn what I fear to learn. But that day is not today.

We start walking back to Kirkwall, Isabela cracking lewd jokes to which I only manage to keep up with.

"Honestly Hawke, what is up with you today? Are you suffering from a multiple personality disorder too?" the pirate asks, as we walk back to Darktown. I am so tired of being down here. This one entrance seems the start of every stupid quest that ends up in the same place, with the same cavern, and somehow no one knows about it. _Whatever!_

"Sorry, just a little distracted right now." I say.

"You're not worried about Anders are you? she asks.

I glance at her before looking away, embarrassed. I wasn't thinking of him at all actually and now I feel bad. I shouldn't be so focused on myself there are other people in my group that need me more.

"Umm, no actually."

"The abomination doesn't warrant worry. He will recover from his demon possession episode just fine, I imagine," Fenris adds sarcastically.

I sigh and roll my eyes.

"Fenris, stop being so cynical. Anders can handle his _other_ self just fine," Isabela cajoles.

I snort in laughter because I can't help myself. I am beginning to think there isn't one member of our group that doesn't have some kind of personality behavioral issue, myself included.

"We are the most dysfunctional group of mercenaries that ever existed," I say.

The pirate shoots me a look, "I don't know who you are talking about because I happen to be completely normal."

"Nymphomaniac," I say.

"Prude," she shoots back. And we both start laughing. The tension that has been sitting on my shoulders lifts momentarily, reminding me that even in the darkest moments, light will come from the most unusual of places. I smile to myself. There are moments like now when everything feels almost normal even with my sister gone. That someday my life will adjust without me realizing and I'll find a new dream and new future to pursue, a man to love and a family to raise. The fact that the man is beginning to resemble an elf is not coming as a surprise to me anymore. I can admit to myself now that there are feelings that go well beyond the realms of friendship with Fenris despite our quarrels.

My eyes find the elf of their own accord only to see that he is watching me intently. I blush, smiling and turn away, but not before I catch the small smile that plays over his lips when I do so.

It is in these stolen glances where I think it is possible that he may feel for me what I do for him. Even if the world is set against us and the likelihood that this would last is miniscule, I think maybe it is time that I trust him that way he has trusted me. Perhaps it is time I tell him the voices I hear and hope that he will understand and not cast me aside in fear. Perhaps….Perhaps….

We arrive back at my mansion, Isabela leaving the two of us for more _entertaining venues_ as she puts it, or in other words, The Blooming Rose. Fenris and I stand facing each other, neither seeming to feel the need to leave, before it occurs to me that I want to give him that book.

"Fenris, I found something I want to give to you. Will you come in for a minute?"

He looks at me a little curiously but nods.

We head into my house and in my library where the book sits on the table against the wall. I grab it and turn around to give it to him.

"I think I found something you might find interesting."

He takes the tattered book out of my hand, our fingertips brushing and making my heart skip a beat. He looks at it uncomprehending, then at me, then at the book again.

"I…um, I thought you would like it. It's about a slave's fight for freedom." I say, quickly, trying to explain my reasoning for giving it to him. His expression changes and turns angry. "I'm sorry." I blurt out, "I thought you would like it."

His eyes close and when they open that anger is gone. "It's nice… it's just that… I don't know how to read."

My face falls.

"There was never any reason for a slave to read so I've never learned," he explains.

"Oh," I say. "Would you want to?"

His demeanor becomes enraged at first but then changes. "You…would teach me?" he stammers. I smile at him, and he reaches a hand back to scratch behind his neck, looking away sheepishly.

"Sure," I say, a little too enthusiastically. "We can start now if you don't have any plans."

He stares at me for a few seconds with something resembling fear on his features. It is a rare thing to see such cracks in his armor. "Um…sure"

I go and grab a children's fairytale off the shelves and bring it over to the couch that faces the fireplace. "Come sit next to me," I say, patting the space next to me. "We will go through the basics." He doesn't move and doesn't look at me. I raise my eyebrows. "I promise I won't bite" and a devious smile forms on my lips.

His gaze flicks up to mine, fire burning in his eyes and I forget how to breathe. "I make no such promises," he says, a smirk playing over his lips. "And I never will."

_Maker, how will I ever focus long enough?_

We eventually get to the reading part and after a few painful hours full of cursing and frustration he eventually gets it. After a while we both lay together on the floor, a fire burning happily in the fireplace. I am leaning against the couch, book propped up in my hand reading to him. He has his head in my lap, eyes closed, listening to the words. I have never felt contentment such as this; I have never had such peace in my heart as I have now with him. Such warmth scorches my chest that I feel I will burn up with it.

A small snore stops the words in my mouth and I look down at him. He breaths deeply, his white hair glimmering in the firelight and falling across his eyes, face slack of all emotion and I realize he is sleeping. I close the book and put it down quietly next to me, watching his chest rise and fall in rhythm. I smile down at him, brushing the hair back from his eyes and behind his pointed ear. Sitting here staring down at him I know I could do it forever and never tire of it.

It is now that I grasp just how far I have fallen. Yes, I am completely lost in him. I am vulnerable after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this installment. Major props to my Beta Enchant who is the best Beta EVER!! I can never say enough just how awesome she is. Anyway next one will be up sometime later next week. I am coming dangerously close to the end of the chapters I have prewritten. At least closer than I would like to be at this point. Until next time.


	10. With or Without you

Another fire is burning against the autumn chill, wood crackling loudly, as I sit cross-legged in my robe, in contemplation. My father's journal rests in my hands, its worn brown cover staring back up at me in defiance. I take a deep breath and sigh. Since last night, while Fenris lay asleep so peacefully in my lap I have thought about opening it. The compulsion to do so is getting stronger, and with it my willful nature pushes it away. My stomach flips and I put the journal down. Anders is right. I am who I am regardless of what some book says. The past is done, I can't change it, but I can learn from it. My magic was taken away for a reason and I've survived these twenty nine years without it. I can stay cut off from the Fade and keep the demons at bay. There is no sense in delving in the past when it has no bearing on my future. It is time I cut the ties that bind me.

Standing up quickly, I intend to throw the journal into the fire but hesitate at the last moment. With a long drawn out sigh, I place it on the mantel. For some reason, I am unable to let it go so flippantly. Running my hands through my frizzed out hair that sticks up like I've been struck by a bolt of lightning, I head to the mirror, and tie it back. After receiving the letter this morning concerning Feynriel my mind has churned with uneasiness but I can't avoid this call for help since it was my fault he joined the Dalish in the first place. I dress quickly, deciding I'll get Fenris first then go to the Hanged Man and recruit some of the others for the trip. The elf should be awake and if he isn't I'll have the pleasure of watching him sleep again. My chest warms and I smile at the thought. I grab my things and head for his mansion.

There is still so much about him that catches me off guard, just like last night. After watching him sleep for a time I finally gave into the temptation to touch him, my thumb grazing the side of his jaw. His eyes snapped open and an instant later I found myself with my back on the floor starring up in numb shock at the elf on top of me. A second after he was off of me and apologizing profusely, but not before my heartbeat picked up and I gasped in surprise. I can't seem to get the memory out of my mind, hands pinned to the floor with his face inches from mine; the thought is intoxicating. For a moment, I swear I smell him, that blend of leather and spice that permeates the room he stays in at the mansion. I look up, almost expecting to see him heading my way, but the faces are those of strangers.

Its warmer out now having finally reached midday, the chill of the early morning has dissipated; although, I love that brisk air that catches your breath on the first inhalation, shocking your lungs and waking you instantly. I spoke to Anders briefly this morning just to make sure he was alright after the incident in the Gallows and the whole time the conversation between us seemed forced and halting, as if we are now unsure of each other. Perhaps we are. I worry for him now, that someday he will lose himself completely to Justice and I will be forced to do something I don't know if I have the strength to do. But it is a problem I can't solve, one he won't want me to, so I push the thought away.

I stand in front of the dilapidated mansion and push open the front door; it creaks eerily, sending a tremor down my spine. I close it behind me, although I don't know why, since it is about ten degrees cooler in here and the air smells old and stale. Shaking my head, I think that I really need to convince Fenris to get out of this place, not only does it look horrible but it's like walking into a vortex of doom. No wonder he is scowling all of the time.

Walking into the main bedroom, I expect to find him in his customary place only to recognize his breastplates, and all the pieces of his armor lying in a pile on the chair. I am about to call out his name when he enters wearing a towel around his hips, running one hand quickly back and forth through his wet hair, as tiny beads of water glisten on his chest and stomach. He stops abruptly upon seeing me and I am stricken silent by the beauty of him. The beads of water drip down slowly, following the contours of his muscles until they reach the towel. I realize my mouth is hanging open and quickly snap it shut. Face flushing in embarrassment, I instantly turn my back to him, although the image is now branded in my mind.

"I'm sorry Fenris, I didn't know. Should I come back?"

His feet pad softly behind me, barely audible in the deathly silent air. There is a rustle of movement followed by the slap of a wet towel falling to ground. The desire to turn around and peek is overwhelming. I am struck by the sudden need to press myself against his slick body, running my hands up his arms, over his chest and down his abdomen and yet lower still onto unexplored territory. My breath hisses inward and I have to close my eyes to gain some measure of composure back. _Stop it Cassie, you're acting like a simpering school girl._

A hand brushes the back of my arm and I jump.

I turn towards the elf to find him smirking at me. "On edge, are we?" he asks. He is only half way clothed now. The expanse of his chest and back are exposed as well as part of his arms. This is somehow even more appealing to me, taunting me to reach out and touch him. With a great difficulty I pull my eyes away, his metal plates still sit ignored on the chair. He is doing this on purpose, he must be.

An embarrassed laugh escapes me and I look away, "Apparently only around you."

He frowns and backs away a step, his eyes holding a measure of hurt. "Do I frighten you?" he asks.

My eyes widen momentarily then I look away again as the blush creeps further up my cheeks. I am afraid of what I want to say, how he will react. I should give a nonchalant answer, but I can't, not anymore. "No," I say. "I am only afraid of what I want."

"And what do you want, Cassie?"

My breath catches. It is rare to hear him use my first name. I cross my arms over my chest in a vain attempt to keep myself from touching him. _Doesn't he already know? Haven't the signs been obvious?_ I'm scowling when his hand pulls my chin upward to look at him. His gaze is terrifying in its intensity but the words won't come out, refusing to leave the safety of my mouth.

"What is it that you want, Cassandra?" he asks again, searching my face for an answer. He is pushing me when he already knows. Flaunting his bare chest that is so tantalizing close that I have to close my eyes or risk losing myself to him. I don't like being teased. His thumb follows the line of my jaw and I jerk back and glare at him.

"I would think the answer would be obvious," I snap.

He takes a step back, the ambient light in the room making his brands glimmer. His brow furrows and a frown forms on his face. I look away and change the subject.

"I was wondering if you would help with rescuing Feynriel," I say, irritation still evident in my voice, and glance at him. His face knits in confusion at the name then realization as the scowl forms and I plow ahead before he can respond. "I got a letter this morning from his mother begging for my help. I feel responsible since I sent him to the Dalish in the first place. I feel like I should help."

His jaw clenches in condemnation. "I told you sending him away was a mistake. He belongs in the Circle."

My nostrils flare and irrationally I lash out, "And do I belong in the Circle too, Fenris?"

His face falls and I can tell he is unsure of what to say. "You are not a mage, Hawke," he tries, but his rejection of the thought is evident, and I can't help but notice he used my last name instead of my first. Something in my chest twists.

"I am. You proved it yourself when you gave your lyrium to me."

He glowers, "And you avoid using it at all costs."

Yes there is truth to that statement. I don't want to use it for fear of what it will do to me. My breath comes short before I can snap back at him, as the full realization to why I don't, hits me. _I don't use it for fear of what it will do to me._ _Makers Breath, am I such a hypocrite?_

I turn away from him and start pacing. How have I not realized this? How have I become so blind to my own actions? "When did I become such a coward?" I say to myself.

He sighs. "You're not a coward. It's just easier to run than it is to face what you fear."

I wheel on him, "I am a hypocrite. I shout for mage freedom and yet run from my own magic. You can't get much more hypocritical than that."

He frowns. "Then do something about it."

I look at him and think of my father's journal at home sitting on my mantel. "What? Learn how to use it? Confront the-" my mouth snaps shut as I almost admit to the voices I hear.

"Confront what?" he asks, but it is something in his expression that tells me he already knows the answer.

I look away, unable to bear the accusation in his eyes. A sigh leaves my lips. There is no point in avoiding the obvious now. "The voices I hear when I do."

From the corner of my eye I see him nodding his head, his brows drawing together as if he has just heard something particularly disappointing, "I thought so."

My eyes jerk to him. "So, you knew?"

"I suspected."

I let out a disgusted groan and sit into the filthy chair making it puff out a huge layer of dust. "I am surprised you didn't inform the Knight Commander yourself, then," I reply angrily, although the anger is more directed at myself than at him but he replies in kind anyway.

"If you were anyone else I probably would have," he retorts, his head whipping back to shake the hair out of his eyes. The movement makes his brands glint again and I find myself balling my hands into tight fists, nails making little half-moon circles in my palms just to avoid closing that distance. Whether it would be to strangle him or kiss him I don't know. Perhaps both.

I fix him with a fierce look. I hate that he stands there distracting me with his bare chest and abdomen, and the fact that he doesn't even know he is doing it. I hate that every part of me is screaming to touch him and run my hands over his exposed flesh and I can't do it. And mostly I hate the fact that he seems to know more about me than I know about myself. He has given me a convenient outlet for my frustration and I take it. "Then why not turn me in? Why not turn Anders in? Or Merrill? You already think so lowly of them. Why not turn them in? And I've just told you I hear voices, demonic possession in the making, right? Or what's that word you like to use?" I'm being vindictive now and I know it. His hands clench into fists at his sides and I know he is close to snapping at me. "Oh yes," I say, like I've just remembered. " _Abomination_. So why not turn me in, Fenris?" I sneer. "Why not make the city safer?"

He glares at me, chest heaving in aggravation and shouts, "Because I care about you too much to do it!"

My breath leaves me in a whoosh and I fall back into the chair I sit in and stare at him open mouthed for a few seconds. He avoids my gaze and continues, "And I don't turn Anders or Merrill in because I respect you too much to do it. You should be the one to make that choice. Not me."

My anger vanishes, like water dousing a fire and that horrible feeling of guilt lays over me like a wet blanket and I look away, ashamed. "I'm sorry," I say. "That was completely undeserved. I just…" and I struggle for the word, then sigh. I get up and turn to leave, pausing with a hand on the top of the chair I was sitting in. I can't look at him for fear of what I will see in his face if I do. "I'm scared. I'm scared of the voices, scared of my magic." And I pause, my throat suddenly tight with fear. "But mostly I'm scared that I will become a monster, become like Danarius."

I hear nothing from him and I'm not surprised. If he had any feelings for me I'm sure I just crushed them with this admission. He knows what I can do; he knows better than any what I can become. I'm about to open my mouth to tell him to forget my asking him to join this excursion into the Fade, when strong sinewy arms wrap around my chest and shoulders, pulling my back into him. A breath that I didn't even know I was holding escapes me in a sigh and I melt into him, the top of my head resting against his cheek. I close my eyes, my hands closing around his arms in comfort of his acceptance, the heat of his chest warming my back. _What I wouldn't give to stay like this_ , I think. His lips glide along my ear and my heartbeat picks up.

"You will not be like Danarius," he murmurs in my ear. "Of that I can promise you."

I open my eyes, staring at the open bedroom door. "How can you be so sure? You don't know the things I've done. Or what I am capable of."

"You are more stubborn than anyone I have ever met," he says, and there is laughter in his voice. "If any demon could deal with your tenaciousness I would be shocked."

My lips curl into a smile and I turn my head into him, "I'm not sure if I should be insulted or flattered by that."

I feel him smirk against the side of my temple. "A compliment, I assure you."

He lets me go and I wish he wouldn't. I turn towards him and he has gone over to the chair to put his steel plates on. It seems a shame to cover up something that is so beautiful but then he obviously can't go out fighting without them.

"So, does this mean you're coming with me?" I ask, as I watch him put on his armor.

He frowns down at his breastplate and begins to buckle it in place. "I don't think you should enter the Fade, Hawke." My last name again, he's back to business. "Especially if you have voices that you hear, it will only be asking for trouble."

"I can block them out. I can make them go away," I oppose.

"Not if you are in the Fade. They will find you. They will tempt you," he states. He is not looking at me but I know he isn't happy.

"So what would you have me do, let his soul go to the demons?" I say a little too sarcastically.

He scowls, "I expect you to be practical. It is not smart to be entering the place that will expose you to them."

"But I can't ignore the problem," I cry, exasperated. "I am responsible for putting him with the Dalish and now he is lost in the Fade by _my_ doing. I should help him get out."

"How is this your doing?" he remarks heatedly. "He chose his path, not you."

"I let him," I spout back. "Damn it Fenris, I am going whether you do or not."

"And saving every foolish, idiotic mage you come across will not bring _her_ back!" he shouts.

It is like a knife in my heart and I already feel the tears welling in my eyes. "How dare you," I seethe. "You have no right to bring Bethany into this." He doesn't even look regretful, just immobile, as if waiting for the brunt of my attack. Yes, I've been helping the mages in my off time, but it's what I would have done whether she were around or not. "I know she won't be back," I say, slowly. My voice takes on a death like quality as I deliberately take the time to annunciate every word. "I wake up every day with the knowledge of what I did and it eats at me, Fenris. It eats away at my soul like some sort of parasite. So yeah, I help set mages free. And every time I do I get a small part of my soul back. The part that was stolen from me when she died. When _I_ killed her." I feel hollowed out now, numb and hard to the world.

"It won't help. It won't matter," he states.

It could be the detached way in which he says it but I don't think, I just yell back, "I. Don't. Care!"

Making a noise that is somewhere between a growl and a shout, he turns away from me raising his arms in the air in agitation and yells, "Festis bei umo canavarum

I narrow my eyes at his turned back, “And that means?” I ask indignantly.

He wheels around and glares at me. “Are you trying to get me killed?” he asks.

I stop abruptly, remembering a few days ago when he was yelling at me for an entirely different reason. Should I have just gone alone?   "No one is forcing you to go," I say, more resigned.

He raises an eyebrow, challenging me boldly, seeming to get a grasp on the trail of my thoughts. "How else do you expect to get out? I've said my piece but if you still insist on this suicidal adventure then I don't have a choice."

"I am still going." I say, staring back insolently.

"Then I am following."

Just like that the debate is over. He straps his sword on his back and waits. I don't understand this. One second he is shouting at me, the next holding me, then we are back to yelling again. And yet he follows. He still follows even though he doesn't agree with me at all. It makes no sense. Its madness. Intoxicating, blood boiling, addicting, madness.

"Well…" he declares and makes a dramatic motion for me to lead the way.

I glare at him defiantly then walk out. I don't have to turn around to know he is following.

An hour later, I stand in the little home of Feynriel's mother with Fenris, Varric and Anders. I would not have chosen Anders to come for fear of his little accident with Justice becoming worse, but he was with Varric when I asked so the mage gave me little choice. Keeper Marethari has sent the other three away but it is redundant as the home is so small they can hear what she says anyway.

"Hawke, I must prepare you for the consequences of this situation." Her gaze is intense as she tries to convey the gravity of the situation. "The demons cannot be allowed possession of Feynriel. Because of his abilities he could become extremely dangerous. So I ask you, should you fail in rescuing him, you must kill him."

I open my mouth to object but she silences me.

"He will not die should you kill him in the Fade. He will only be made Tranquil."

_Small difference,_ I think _._ "Is there no chance to save him then, if I fail."

She shakes her head, " _You_ are the only chance."

  1. "I understand. I will do my best."



Anders makes a disgusted sound but I ignore him. We go to lay down in the appointed room for the ritual, but before I can, Fenris grabs my hand.

"Hawke, please, I implore you. Don't do this." I am ready to be angry until I see the expression on his face. His eyes are pleading, concern causing the lines around his eyes to stand out. He is truly worried about me. In fact I've never seen him so anxious. Why is he suddenly so apprehensive? Of all the trials we've faced over the years and not once did he show an ounce of misgiving about anything. He just took it as it came but now he reacts. It's…strange.

I intertwine my fingers with his. "I will be fine. We will be fine." I say, holding our entwined fingers up. But the worry on his face does not dissipate, it worsens.

"Cassie, please." His hand tightens in mine and I am shocked by his use of my first name. He doesn't use my first name around people we don't know, he rarely even uses it when we are with our friends. I falter. "Cassie, I've seen this. Please, you must believe me. I didn't realize it until we entered this room but I've seen this. I've dreamt this place so many nights. Ever since the Deep Roads. This is the place-" and he abruptly silences.

"This is the place?" I prompt him, calmly.

He sighs. "This is the place you die," he says quietly, "this is the place that I kill you."

The blood in my veins turns to ice, and the hand that holds his, drops. "How?" I ask.

He holds up his fist and stares at it with repugnance. "With this."

_In my chest_ , I think. I've had that dream too.

Our conversation is cut off.

"Is there a problem, Hawke?" Anders asks, jealousy clear in the cadence of his voice.

I glance at him and I know I must look ashen. The Keeper comes up to me and searches my features.

"Are you ok, child?" she asks.

I nod my head, although that is far from the truth in any sense.

She seems unconvinced but nods nevertheless. "Good, then we must get started. I feel his soul weakening."

"Keeper, I have one question. Should I die in the Fade what will that do to me?"

Her eyes bore into mine and she says, "Nothing other than experiencing the pain of death. However, the fight for survival will begin once the demons take control."

It eases my anxiety and I look over at Fenris. "See, it will be alright. We can't die in the Fade."

The concern in his face does not lessen but he no longer stands in my way.

…

One moment I am laying on the wooden floor and the next I stand in some grand hall that I don't recognize. Fenris, Varric and Anders are all with me, although Anders is no longer the Anders I know. Justice travels in his place commenting about how he never thought he would return to the Fade in such a way _. If only there were a way to keep you here_ , I think.

Shaking my head in discomfort, I can't seem to dislodge this strange feeling of belonging, although the resentment here is so thick that I feel I am coated with it, like slick viscous oil that cannot be washed away. Focusing is not coming easy, although I don't hear voices; the emotions running through this place are enough to make me sick.

"Are you alright, Hawke?" Fenris' hand touches my elbow. Instantly my skin ignites, my entire body coming alive as the lyrium from his brands is pulled into me. It's like taking a shot of my favorite liquor, reveling in the burn it creates going down my throat. _Too fast, it's too fast._

"Sweet Andraste," I say, but the words come out as a growl until the elf is jerked away from me by Varric. I am panting heavily and Fenris is on his knees. "What in the Void just happened?" I ask.

Fenris shakes his head, still trying to catch his breath.

"Right," grumbles Varric, "You," he says pointing at the elf. "Don't touch her. And you," he says pointing a finger at me, "Try and contain yourself."

_Like I meant for that to happen_. "It wasn't on purpose," I mutter.

Anders stares at us for a few moments until he speaks and I am reminded that Justice is driving. "You're a mage," his deep voice rumbles. "And you have deprived your body of its most needed resource." Justice's disdain and revulsion of my actions is easily heard. "You're starving it. So it will fine any means necessary to survive _. Especially in the Fade._ No matter how much you might want to stamp it out it will not go away. If the Rite of Tranquility didn't do it, nothing will," the spirit says snidely. "Welcome home, Hawke."

I glare at Justice. "I don't deny what I am."

The spirit in Anders body shifts on stolen feet, and switches his staff from one hand to the other. "No, you ignore it," he derides. "The one person who has the power to change the course of history and free mages from their bonds and you are too much of a _coward_ to do it," he says.

"I am not a coward," I hiss. But the comment hits a nerve. Justice sees me for what I am. A hypocrite dressed in the clothes of justice.

I turn away from him, unable to bear the accusation in his demeanor any longer. I don't get three steps before something powerful touches my mind. My eyes close and my steps waver as I feel it dig into my thoughts, searching for something. The cool marble of the column braces me and when I open my eyes, I see the courtyard below me and the demon standing there, waiting.

I take a few more steps before staggering into the railing that protects me from falling. A powerful thrust in my head causes me to cry out. It digs its claws in deeper, delving further until I feel my mind is being ripped apart.

_Get out_ , I think.

Somewhere behind me Fenris' voice sounds, shouting my name but it seems displaced, apart from reality.

_You think you can win_ , a voice mocks in my head. _You think you can save him_? An evil chuckle erupts in my mind. _The dreamer is mine._ _You will fail, just as you have failed so many others, just as you have failed your sister._ _You will fail because you fear._ _You will fail because you are unwilling to do what must be done._ _But mostly, you will fail because fate has deemed it so._ Crouching, I cover my hands over my ears and scream and still I hear it laughing at me _. You cannot fight what is meant to be._ With that, a sharp force rakes my mind, driving further until it finds what it is looking for and the pain vanishes just before the blessed relief of unconsciousness takes me.

…

I wake on the beach to the sound of my sister's voice calling to me. I raise my head off the sand, blearily looking around in the bright sunlight. About a hundred feet away sits Bethany, calling out my name with a hand raised up to shield her eyes from the sun.

"I can't believe you fell asleep," she says loudly after seeing me awake.

I look at her confused. "What?" I slur. "I wasn't sleeping, I just…" and I pause not being able to remember where I just was or what I was doing. I shake my head and get to my hands and knees, sitting back on my heels. I brush the sand off my face and look around. "Where are we?" I ask, trying to get my bearings.

She laughs, "You must have drunk more than I thought."

I slowly get up, feeling unsteady on my feet and stare at her bewildered. "I didn't drink I…"I close my eyes as something stabs through my temple and I shake my head again. _What in the world is wrong with me?_ My head begins to throb and I rub my eyes. Maybe I did drink too much, I feel like I have the worst hangover ever. I open my eyes and start stumbling towards my sister. _Yes I definitely indulged in something too much._ "For the sake of argument, what happened?"

Her lips quirk in their characteristic smile and she answers, "Isabela challenged you to a drinking contest which you obviously lost."

I frown, and try to remember but it all seems blank. "Isabela?" I look around. "And we did it here?" I ask incredulously.

Something strange flickers behind Bethany's eyes before she replies, "Well, where else? You wanted to come to the beach so we came to the beach."

Squinting, I look up at the sun and see it's about midday. There is no way I would suggest something like this in the morning. The time, the drinking, the beach, none of it adds up. Frowning again, I ask, "Did Fenris and Aveline and all the others come too?"

My sister gives me a wry kind of smile. "When does Aveline ever come?"

_True._ "What about Fenris?"

Her face distorts harshly before quickly turning back to normal. _What the fuck?_ Agony lances through my head and I groan, falling to my knees on the ground _. This isn't right. This is all wrong. What is wrong with me?_ The pain digs deeper, claws tearing through my mind until I am on all fours, panting. Memories flash before my eyes, like flipping through a picture book and somehow I know this isn't real.

"Who are you?" I growl as reality sets in. "You are not my sister. My sister is dead."

Her smile becomes malicious and looks completely unnatural on her features. Then with a fluid like grace that she never possessed, she lunges at me, knocking me onto my back, her hands pinning my shoulders into the sand. Her hair falls to either side of her face, giving her demeanor a sinister look, her eyes change, the irises turning black then spilling like oil to swallow the entire eye whole.

" _Who_ are _you_ Dreamkeeper?" she mocks, but the voice is no longer hers. "I feel your magic like fire on my skin. Sooo powerful," she drawls, bending over and inhaling me deeply like one would savor a delicious meal. "We could do much together you and I. Rip the veil and see."

_Rip the veil?_ "No," I snarl and gather all my strength to push her away. A massive force bursts out of my core in a wave of invisible power that throws her off me. The scenery changes then, melting away, and I find myself sitting on the cobblestone courtyard in the Fade with the sloth demon a few feet from my grasp.

Disoriented, I backpedal on hands and feet when an explosion of ice flies past me to smack the demon in the chest. Its gaze flicks to the mage behind me and makes and inarticulate sound. A war cry tears the air as Fenris sprints past me, sword wielded in his two handed grip. The demons stance becomes defensive when the elf slashes in a flurry of strikes that should not be possible with such a large blade. Three arrows successively sink into the black flesh of its chest, blood oozing from every orifice in large quantities. Its eyes meet mine for only a fraction of a second and it whispers in my head,

_This is only the beginning-_

Fenris decapitates the demon a moment after and I'll never know if there was meant to be anything more at the end of that thought. He wheels on me in fury, blade dropping before he falls on me, the weight of his body pinning mine to the ground. Startled by this turn of events, I struggle under him, confused and more than a little frightened at his actions. His brands light up, giving his skin and mine and eerie glow. His hand slowly rises up in preparation to strike, his face contorting in an unknown pain as his eyes stare into mine from inches away. His breathing is labored, his features striking even now in their ferocity and determination from this proximity, but anxiety fills me on being on the receiving end of such a look.

_Oh Maker._ "Fenris…" I say through a closed throat, fear slicing through me at what he must intend to do. Something shifts behind his eyes but he does not move. "Fenris, please, what are you doing?" Alarm seeps through in my voice and I know he hears it. "Fenris, don't kill me, please don't do this," I whimper. His gaze hardens; I panic and begin to thrash under him. His forearm slams into my chest jamming me back into the ground, my head cracks against it making my vision blur. His face is now so close to mine that I feel his warm breath on my skin. "What are you doing?" my voice cracks in terror and I struggle futilely underneath him again. "Anders! Varric! Don't let him do this!" I scream.

Both of them stand off to one side staring at me sadly. _Am I still possessed? Is the demon now Fenris? Am I hallucinating again?_

My skin prickles, coming alive with the burning lines of fire that travel up my veins into the core of my body. Fenris inhales sharply and his expression turns murderous.

"You will not take lyrium from me demon," he spits.

His fist plunges downwards. Squeezing my eyes shut, I hold my breath against the coming pain that I am sure will be horrific. A wordless scream rents the air next to my ear, making my ears ring, followed by his quiet sobs.

"I can't," he whispers in my ear. "Oh Maker forgive me, I can't do it."

I grab both sides of his face, seeing the swell of tears in his eyes that make my heart soar. Misery is etched over his entire face and I want so badly to kiss it away. He couldn't kill me; he cared about me so much that he couldn't do it.

"So take it back," I whisper back at him, "take back what I have stolen."

The anguish in his expression lightens with the spark of hope. I press my lips to his forehead, relishing the feel of the lyrium rushing out of my body and back into him. A sound that resembles a sob and a laugh leaves him as he pulls it all back into himself taking part of me with it. His breath hisses inward and his eyes roll up into his head as he closes his eyes. Our bodies press together and I gently pull back the little that is mine.

"Oh Maker," he mumbles next to my ear, his breath coming in a gasp.

"So, when are the clothes coming off?" Varric asks, his voice threaded with amusement.

"They aren't," I say with a laugh, as Fenris gets up, gazing down at me with a look I cannot describe. His hand reaches down to help me up and the moment our skin touches again the lyrium tries to equalize itself. A moan escapes my lips before I can stop it.

"Riiight," Varric cajoles, "Should I let you two have some privacy? Take Justice off somewhere before his body has a fit."

Standing shakily, I glance over at the spirit who has possession of my friend and wonder how Anders would be reacting right now if he was in the driver's seat. The mage's body ripples with a shiver and then his eyes lock with mine, hard and unfeeling.

"Now that we have determined the demon is truly gone we must move on. Feynriels's spirit falters and Anders' isn't much better," Justice says, bitterly. _Well, now I know Anders isn't happy._

"So, I take it she's not possessed?" Varric asks.

Fenris shakes his head no and Justice makes a disgruntled sound. A sharp pain stabs at my head, like a stake being pounded into my skull. I sway on my feet ready to drop when Fenris' hand grabs my arm and instantly the pain subsides as the lyrium makes its way into my body. I shake my head to clear the dizziness and the memory of the pain.

"They're attacking you?" he asks.

Looking over at him my eyes widen in recognition of what is happening.

"Yes. But when you touched me they were…pushed out," I reply, frowning. "Odd that it should work that way."

He grunts but says little else and we head to the first door we can find.

…

The vision around us fades away revealing the desire demon that was Feynriel's father. I pull out my daggers to ready the fight when the demon's head tilts to the side curiously, a hand running absentmindedly over its breast.

"I know you," it says seductively. "Your blood sings with recognition. You're spirit has been here before."

Justice snaps, "All mages are tied to the Fade, of course you would have felt her before."

The demon turns her head to give him a withering look. "Stop speaking you pathetic excuse for a spirit. Her blood sings because her soul knows this place though her mind may not. She is pulled to it much like I am, you imbecile. Now, can you guess what I mean?" she mocks.

Justice says nothing, frowning.

"I'm just a mage, nothing else." I exclaim.

"Dreamer," it purrs. "You run but you can't hide forever. Eventually we will find you. Eventually you will fall."

Visions of desires held long in check assault my mind in an endless series of possibilities and I stagger on my feet as if I've been pushed. A voice moans in pleasure.

"So many desires," it says in a sultry voice, "so many that circle around… _him_." The demon points a clawed hand at Fenris and laughs.

I groan and curl in on myself when the flashes grow worse. Fenris sleeping in my lap when I read to him, holding me in his arms, pinning me into the ground, kissing my forehead. _There are so many to choose from,_ a voice whispers in my head, _and I can give you so much more_. Then they progress to the elf storming into my house and asking me to end his agony and be with him. A lyrium branded body thrusting into mine again and again until we are both screaming our pleasure to the sky.

"Stop," I mumble.

Handfasting, children, a place in the middle of nowhere to call our own, they come faster and faster until I am both crying in pain and laughing at the ridiculousness because most of these will never come to pass. Anger swells with a deep burn in my chest with each cascading image of pleasure and happiness that I will most likely never live to see. My vision clears until I see the demon in front of me, close in front of me, smiling with a hand held up waiting for mine to enfold it. If I take that hand the possession will be complete and I'll live a life of a lie although it will be a happy one and my body will become a husk for her to fill. She beckons me closer, with whispers of seduction like poison on her lips. Hatred fuels my body until I feel like I might burst with the rage. I control my destiny, no one else. Magic bursts forth when I am within arm's reach and her smile falters then falls completely, fear taking its place.

"Mother of Dreams," she mumbles, staring at me horrified. "I didn't mean…" she stutters, backing up, "Oh no."

She turns to run, but it is too late. The blade is planted through her back in-between the ribs and into the heart seemingly of its own accord. Vaguely I know I am responsibly but the _how_ doesn't seem to want to come together. The desire demon falls with a wail and vanishes into mist.

“What did you just do, Hawke? I’ve never seen you look so…” and words seem to fail the dwarf.

I fall to my knees utterly drained, cursing Feynriel for being a mage, and myself for wanting to help him _._ _Justice/Anders stares at me, like he’s never seen me before, as if I am some sort of freak. But I can’t even muster the strength to say something back. Mother of Dreams_ the demon called me and my heart begins to pound hard in my chest, echoing in my ears. What does that even mean? My mind feels like it has been torn to shreds already and I am far from done. My only desire now is to curl up in my favorite chair with a blanket and a fire burning and try to forget everything that has happened on this excursion. I yearn desperately for something that will never happen, peace and quiet to lead my own life. _Living happily ever after, what a stupid dream_. After four years I am no closer to that happy ending and have lost so much more in the progress. _What exactly am I fighting for?_

_Yes_ …my mind whispers… _why fight the inevitable_.

My eyes close in exhaustion and I sit back on my heels. _Yes, why fight?_ It would be so easy to let go, not care anymore. I am always at everyone's beck and call. Mercenary for hire…yeah right, more like work whore for hire. I get to do all the jobs that no one else wants to do and get paid little to nothing for it. When did _I_ become the one that would save the city? So I can end up like the Hero of Fereldan, dead and revered? But what did it get her? Nothing, other than an early grave. I don't want to end up like that. No family, no children, no one to cherish my life with; I can't lead a life so…empty.

A hand caresses my chin and an invisible tether to something malevolent snaps. I gasp and my eyes snap open. The touch to my mind was so delicate that I hadn't even realized what was happening; a demon manipulating my thoughts. The thought scares me more than I can say. I have always thought it would be like mind rape but this was something completely different, more like the power of suggestion. The grip on my chin tightens forcing me to raise my face up to meet his but I already know the holder. Fenris stands above me pulling my face up so our eyes meet. His expression is so fraught with distress that I stare at him bewildered.

"Don't leave me," he says, coming down to my level. His hands brush up either side of my jaw until it feels like a current of electricity is running rampant in my skin. "Please, stay with me."

My heart skips a beat as I stare up at him, mystified by how we exactly we have gotten here. How he has come to care about me even though we disagree over almost everything, even though he hates mages and all that they represent. It seems almost impossible, doomed for failure before it even begins. How would this possibly ever work?

"I'm not going anywhere," I say, sheepishly.

His eyes grow concerned, "You started to fade, become one with this place."

My face falls as that icy shot of fear goes through me again but then I grab his hands, feeling stable and hopeful. "And I have you to pull me back," I say and smirk, although I know it doesn't reach my eyes.

We both stand together, our hands joining for a moment before letting go. I place my daggers over my back and head out the door, the others following behind me. There is still a demon here; I can feel it in the core of my being. We aren't done yet.

…

The next vision falls but not before the demon was able to confuse Feynriel enough that he runs away in terror, his mind breaking under the stress. The pride demon's hold has been broken but unless we kill it the freedom will only be temporary.

A faint tickling begins in the back of my mind, tiny and insignificant at first but when I go to act something tries to push to the forefront of my consciousness and I end up staggering in confusion. The creature growls in frustration until its eyes find another source.

"You do not seek recognition or power and yet you have both in large quantities. The Maker's sense of humor is astounding," the creature says. It is the first time I have ever heard a demon refer to the Maker. Perhaps even demons believe in a greater power yet strive to subvert it. Its gaze shifts until it lands on the elf. "But do you think this slave would choose you over his freedom?"

"Cast your eyes elsewhere demon. I won my freedom from the magisters long ago."

"But you fear them still. They left their marks on your body, on your mind, with my aid you could be free forever. You could have power enough to challenge any who would change you."

He looks at me then back at the demon. Panic so thick it racks my body sets in when his hesitation becomes apparent. The words tumble out of my mouth in a desperate plea, "Fenris, don't listen to it. Please, I need you. I would never let anyone change you again."

He looks over at me completely torn. "But to have enough power to challenge Danarius?" he whispers deep in thought. "I could end this now without risking you, keep you safe."

"I will never be safe. It's all a lie, can't you see that? Don't let your hatred blind you," I implore.

He turns to me and I know without him having to say a thing that this battle is already lost. "Sometimes my hatred is all that keeps me going." His sword tip touches the ground and his body relaxes as he looks back at the demon. "What would you need from me?" he asks.

Betrayal sharp and sure pierces through my chest so hard that I think I will look down and see his sword impaling me already.

"Just a moment of your time," the demon replies with something that resembles a smile.

Fenris turns to me and for a moment hope surges, but the vacant look in his eyes is a stab through the heart again as he comes towards me, sword raised high.

His blade swings almost faster than I can keep track of and I somehow avoid the first two strikes but the third cuts across my chest. I groan as the warm liquid soaks my clothes dark red in seconds. Something unknown flickers behind his eyes, so quick I am not sure I saw it at all. The demon shrieks with glee and I hear it say, "Dream Keeper."

"Fenris, please, stop. I will not fight you."

He does not respond but his blade swings again and I get my dagger out just in time to deflect the blow, crying out when I twist my body. Three bolts strike into Fenris' shoulder, throwing him into the ground. I turn to see Varric and Anders both fighting off abominations that have risen out of nowhere. They are quickly overwhelmed and I know I will be getting no more help from them. The only time I get is enough to down a healing potion before the elf is on me again. I turn aside his next two attacks, grimacing with the wound that is not completely healed when he lunges, taking me completely by surprise. Collapsing, I take the full brunt of his weight and mine when I smack into the ground. The breath whooshes out of me and I gasp helplessly like a fish out of water as the air refuses to enter my lungs and a horrible choking sound emerges from my throat. Adrenaline surges in my veins as I panic for the air that will not come. A laugh comes from above me, his sword forgotten at his side. His brands flare to life and I can see my end in them. His arm plunges into my chest and agony unlike any I have never known erupts over me and it feels like I and being burned alive.

_Submit_ , a voice whispers in my head.

My brain forms the only response I can think of. _Screw You._

_Submit Dream Keeper._

Something within me begins to rise up in challenge. A feeling I recognize in my times of great stress. A feeling I’ve experienced only a handful of times. First when we fled the Blight. Then when Bethany died in my arms. And now. Something foreign and yet not, screams its fury at the demon. _No!!_

Fenris' fist twists and if I had the air to scream I would have _._

_Submit_ , the voice demands.

A resounding crack echoes deep within me as something long bottled up pours forth. Images of memories I have never known assault my mind.

_I hide in a closet, making myself as small as possible in hopes that maybe they won't notice me, while voices argue outside my door._

" _Do you even hear yourself!" my mother cries. "You are going to make our child Tranquil, make her a husk of a human being. I'd rather she be dead than be walking around like a ghoul!" she shouts._

_Cringing in fear, I whimper, quiet moans emerging from my lips._

" _We have to Leandra or she will tear this world apart."_

" _That is a lie. Whatever it is that creature told you was a lie." she says, repulsed._

" _Leandra, our daughter is already gone. Can’t you see that? This is the only way." he replies sorrowfully._

" _Malcolm please. She's little, she doesn't understand. Try and teach her."_

_The voice comes hollow and resolute, "No she doesn't understand and now it is too late. She will never be ready. The world is not ready. If they try to break her she will destroy them all"._

" _Maker damn you. I will never forgive you for this."_

_The door thrusts open, light pours in and I scream._

My soul cries out as magic that has been blocked up for so long floods from my core to my fingertips in a gush of power I can't control, it bursts in an outward wave throwing everyone and everything back to the furthest reaches of the room. Pure energy sings through me and I open my eyes and gasp. Rage recoils and explodes burning alive every abomination in the room in a great inferno of power.

As my vision slowly begins to clear I look around the room for my companions. Varric is cursing colorfully, slow to get to his feet and Anders/Justice leans feebly against the wall scowling at me. My eyes search frantically for the last to find his huddled form thrown against the far wall. Without thinking I get to my feet and run to him, barely staying upright along the way. My world sways and I almost collapse when I reach him. My body feels empty and exhausted like I've just fought a month long battle with no break. I fall to my knees beside him and turn him over. When my hand touches his skin the brands flare then quickly go out. My breath catches and I look him over. He seems whole and untouched, though unconscious.

Justice walks to my side and Varric comes up behind me. "Hawke he must be killed. He is possessed by the demon," the spirit says.

"No," I growl, not bothering to look at the disapproval that I know is written on his stolen face. "The demon is gone. Fenris will be fine."

"How do you know? Did you kill it? Did you see it die?"

I scowl and say nothing. There is truth to his words however loath I am to see it. He won't die, not really, just go back to reality. I must convince myself of this but I know that while my head may understand what is happening my heart does not.

I pull the knife from my boot, watching the unconscious elf as I do. His face looks so peaceful and young with the pain and hatred of his past washed from his features. _You can do this_ , I tell myself, _he will not die just go back. He will not die. He will not die!_ I harden my resolve and raise up the dagger, my eyes following the action. _He will not die._

I look back down and see Bethany looking placidly back up at me. Dropping the blade I back pedal fast, screaming in terror as my vision blurs with the sudden tears that have sprung in my eyes. _She's not there, she's not there, she's not there,_ repeats like a mantra in my head. My little sister, staring at me with her dull lifeless eyes. I rock back and forth hiding my face as tremors of an intense pain that I had forgotten strike my heart _. She's dead and you killed her_ , a voice says. _Will you now kill the only other person you have ever managed to love_? I shake my head rapidly back and forth, beginning to hyperventilate.

Hands grasp mine, pulling them harshly away from my eyes, and I see her staring down at me through the veil of my tears _. Will you kill him, like you killed me_ , her voice says in my mind. A wail rents the air.

A loud crack accompanied with a blinding pain on the side of my face clears my vision. Varric stands in front of me, holding my hands back, calling my name as if he has been saying it over and over again for quite some time. My eyes lock with his and my body begins to shake as I realize everything I've just experienced wasn't real. I try and steady my breathing but it doesn't seem to work as the pain of my sister's death rips my heart in two again. _I can't do this, I can't keep doing this_.

"Hawke," Varric says calmly as he still holds my now unresisting wrists. "It's going to be ok. Everything is going to be alright."

A bitter laugh escapes me through the quiet sobs and I look over at the still prone form of Fenris as I tell the dwarf, "I'm beginning to wonder if it will ever be alright, Varric. I am not as optimistic as Bethany always was." Pain stabs through my side making my breath come out in a shudder.

Justice steps into my field of vision, blocking my view of the elf. "We need to leave. The fabric of this reality is tearing along with the dreamers mind. I fear there is little else we can do." Varric is frowning at the comment as he still looks at me, eventually sighing and says, "Blondie and I will take care of…" and he trails off and sighs, "you take care of Feynriel." I nod numbly and get up, glancing at the elf one last time. His eyes snap open and he gains his feet as the three of us grab our weapons.

"Hawke! GO!" shouts Varric, "Get out of here! Save Feynriel!"

I hesitate and stare at the two of them as Varric shoots of a volley of arrows that Fenris somehow dodges and deflects. The dwarf curses and screams, "Hawke, GO!"

Backpedalling, I turn and sprint from the room, with the sounds of battle ringing in my ears.

I find him, the half elf that has become the plague of my existence in the main courtyard. He paces and rants to himself, talking and answering, sounding half out of his mind.

"Feynriel?" I say hesitantly.

He whirls on me in shock only now having noticed me.

"Voices…so many voices…" he shakes his head and begins to pace again. "They whisper things to me. The dreamer is near, they say. Find the dreamer. Twist the spirit. Tear the veil" his voice is half mad, ranting like a lunatic. "We will come, we will come. Can't hide now, can't hide."

Oh Maker he really is mad. I look over my shoulder quickly then back at him. "Feynriel, it's ok. You can break free. I know you can. The demons are gone. Break free of the Fade." My voice comes out panicked as I look again to find no one is there.

He is shaking his head side to side so fast that I worry he might snap his neck. Frustration makes me grab him, framing his face between my hands as his eyes dart from side to side and then they focus on something behind me and he inhales sharply. I let go and turn to see Fenris staring at the pair of us.

The half elf wails, sounding like a strangled cat, holding his ears and curling into a ball. "Make them stop. Make them stop. Make them stop," he pleads, rocking back and forth. Then a scream rips from his throat.

There is no saving him.

My stomach twists with the knowledge that I just killed both of my companions with my unwillingness to end Fenris' life when I could have. _What have I done?_

Feynriel laughs high pitched and maniacal as the elf with dead eyes stalks forward, blade drawn. I pull out my daggers and raise them defensively. There must be a way to break the demons hold on him. Somehow I must get through to him.

"You have to fight it, Fenris. Please, I don't want to hurt you."

His lips curl into a feral grin. "Don't want to hurt me?" he mocks. "You have done all of the hurting you will ever do." His eyes harden and he lunges. I barely dodge the blade that pierces the air next to my side and elbow him in the face. The follow through of my blade misses its mark as he spins away wiping the blood from his mouth.

"Use your magic, you leach!" he screams. "I did not endure years of your torture to have you go soft on me now. You will pay for what you have done to me."

The comment catches me off guard and for just a moment my daggers drop. In a quickness born of fury he is on me, swiping my useless daggers to the side as we collide to the ground. He pins me to the ground and the look of pure vile hatred paralyzes me.

"Danarius," he spits, venomously. I have a moment of terror and then his brands light up, his fist enters my chest and all I know is pain.

…

Someone is shrieking, a hideously death like sound, until I realize that person is me and it cuts off to a pain filled groan. I open my eyes to a sideway view of the world, curled in a ball on the floor. The planks of wood creak under someone's feet but I am too haunted by the phantom hand that pulled out my heart to notice. My chest throbs and heaves and it is in that moment I feel the tears running down my face. I've failed again. Feynriel is now a husk for a demon all because of my stupid heart _. Love can be our greatest strength but also our greatest weakness._ My father used to say that to me and I never understood it until now. I swore I would never let an outsider get that close to me, losing almost every member of my family had driven home that fact, but now, lying here I realize that somehow I let it happen again. I let someone in. The wrong someone.

I curl in tighter on myself, wanting to crawl into a dark hole and never come out. A hand pushes back the curtain of my hair that covers my sight from above. Anders kneels above me, or at least I know it must be him because Justice would never touch me in such a fashion, carefully, tenderly. Our gazes meet and he lets out a breath in sadness.

"Feynriel is lost, then?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

I look away, misery setting in like a dull blistering burn I will never heal from. His hand pulls away but he stays there kneeling by my side.

"Fenris," he says, although I know he is asking for my confirmation, he states it like a fact.

Fenris betrayed me. He actually betrayed me for power. Of all the remarks he has made over the years about power corrupting and turning mages to blood magic and at the first temptation of power _he betrays me_. My misery of my failure fuels my rage. How- after everything we've done together over the last week-could he do this to me. How could he cast what has happened between us aside like garbage? _Don't leave me_ , his voice says in my mind. _Please stay with me_. Then my mind fights against my heart bringing up images of his lips pressed to my forehead as he cradles me in the elevator. Whispering _what have you done to me_ in my ear with such emotion and longing in his voice that it shocks me. Reading the book to him only to find him asleep in my lap. That was the moment I…

Screaming the aggravation that I will not give voice to does nothing to placate the wrath that now boils inside me like venom. I thought I felt something more, something like… My mind can't even think the word; he does not deserve such emotion from me. Deception, betrayal, I should have known from the beginning what he would do. He is my greatest weakness and will continue to be until I can cut him out.

"Yes." I say, answering Anders question as something in my chest twists with the word. It is then I see the shadow looming at my side. Carefully I get up and come face to face with Fenris. "Feynriel?" I ask, but at this point the answer is obvious.

He looks away ashamed and shakes his head.

I get to my feet slowly, ignoring the looming shadows of my companions as they watch our exchange. "I hope your betrayal was worth the price," I remark snidely.

"Hawke, I-"

"No," I growl and point a finger in his chest. "You do not get to apologize." I push him, though he barely moves, and get right in his face. "Because for all of your pretentious, judgmental remarks about mages it turns out you are no different than anyone else." A bitter laugh escapes my mouth and I look away, "And now I know where your loyalties lie," I say, wanting revenge for the pain that throbs like a second heart beat in my chest. I want him to hurt. "Turns out my first assumption of you was correct after all. As soon as we deal with Danarius you'll leave. Good to know I'm just a means to an end." And I turn to walk away.

He grabs my arm and jerks me back around, anger at my words showing on his face, in his voice. "How can you think that? You think I stick around just because I like to be an easy target, because that's what I am by staying here," he shouts at me.

Varric's and Anders' grumbling reaches my ears and I am reminded that we have an audience. A rather large one at that.

"If you don't like being a sitting duck then leave!" I yell. "No one is asking you to stay." I regret the words as soon as they are out of my mouth because the truth is I don't want him to leave but I can't ignore the fact that he betrayed me. The one person I hoped would follow me to the ends of the earth, betrayed me. The truth hurts like a thorn twisting in my side as I feel the traitorous tears welling in my eyes. _I won't let him see me cry, I won't._

His face is impassive when he says quietly, "If you want me to leave, I will. You need never see me again."

My breath catches and I hesitate. He stares at me, his expression unreadable, willing to do whatever I tell him. I don't know if I could bear not seeing him again, yet if he stays I will always wonder if he is just waiting to stick the knife in my back again. He waits, the intensity in his stare striking me cold and I know I've left him little choice, he has nothing left to win and nothing left to lose. The first tear falls and I hate myself for it. He notices and watches it trail down my cheek. I brush it away angrily and glare at him.

"You betrayed me," I hiss. "You chose the offer of a _demon_ over me. You had to know what it would cost. You yourself said you saw it ending with your fist in my chest. How…" and I struggle against the trembling that is threatening to take over my body. "How could you?"

More tears fall, slowly trickling down my face, one after another. His eyes close and his head tilts down towards his feet. It is only a moment before they rise again and something in them has hardened. "I told you what would happen and _you_ went anyway, _you_ risked yourself anyway. I _refuse_ to be held accountable for choices you forced me into."

I stare at him flabbergasted. _Did he really just say that? Did he really just turn this around to be my fault?_ I can't take it. I can't take it anymore. This constant filling up and wringing out of my emotions. He'll kill me. This has to end…now. My jaw clenches and I shake my head and turn around to go to the door. I am sure rumors of my supposed love life will be flying. There sure are enough people here to witness its demise. My hand tightens around the doorframe, the cool autumn air drying the tears on my cheeks. "I can't look at you anymore, Fenris." I pause and stare at the storm clouds that loom in the darkening sky, "I can't bear its price." And somehow I manage to walk out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience while I work out some kinks with the plot. Posting will become slightly delayed with the next few chapters. Hopefully no more than two weeks between each one. If it does I apologize now. Life intervenes from time to time and since I write partly for my own enjoyment but mostly for your reactions it can become difficult. Either way I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Again awesome props to my amazing Beta Enchant who literally keeps me writing when all else fails.


	11. Human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know its been awhile. Thank you for your patience and your support. The comments are what keep me going. Especially now when my desire to write begins to fail. So without further ado...

When I left the elven alienage the dark clouds rolled in so fast that it felt wholly unnatural, soon to be followed by the crash of thunder and lightning that caused most people to flee to the nearest shelter when the rain started to pour. In a matter of seconds my clothes were soaked and now I wander the empty streets alone, more miserable than a wet cat.

If I am not dwelling on Fenris then my mind turns to the demons and the fact that they kept calling me Dream Keeper and if not on the demons it turns to yet another of the seemly endless mysteries of the day. My head pounds with it all and I can’t help but feel more lost than I am right now. My father…I have no doubt of what I saw in that memory, or whatever it was, is real and not imagined. My father made me tranquil. Why? My heart constricts wildly and I swallow around the lump in my throat. I have avoided this for over three years, evading what the idol showed me. For three years I have built up a wall constructed of so many lies to ease my mind, to keep my sanity. Now all of my carefully erected barriers have been torn apart brick by brick. Ignorance is not an option anymore.   Who am I really? What am I? Am I a mage, a dreamer, or something more? _Mother of Dreams._ _This is only the beginning_ , the demon said, and I know that it is right. A tremor starts in my spine and takes over my body until I am forced to stop walking and take a deep breath to compose myself.

_It will be ok. It will be ok. It will be ok._

_No it won’t_ , that snide demeaning part of my mind says. I stamp it down and begin to laugh bitterly. The rain continues its torrential downpour, lightning flashing that is simultaneously followed by the crash of thunder. The sky is as angry and as confused as my thoughts. My fingertips tingle with pins and needles, only more acutely, more painfully. I stare down at them for a moment then shake my head and compel my feet forward again

Sighing, my mind travels down the path of self destruction. The demons called me Dream Keeper.   I wonder if that is just another name for a dreamer, but it is the way the desire demon cringed in fear and said _Mother of Dreams_ that makes me hesitant to do so. What does it mean? What other atrocities will be visited upon me. _Stop it._ My sister would be yelling at me right now if she were here, reprimanding my downward spiral of thinking. But she is gone. I killed her. The only other person I would have thought to confide in has now betrayed me and Anders, whom I might have trusted at one time, can no longer be a source of solace, not with Justice running interference.   Merill is out of the question since she would almost certainly approve of such connections with demons regardless of the circumstances and we are not that close to begin with. I have never needed my sister more than at this moment. Tears are falling from my eyes, although the only way I can tell is from the momentary warmness it leaves on my cheeks before the chill rain leaches all the heat from my skin.

I have failed. I have failed so many that it crushes me down to the ground in its despair.  

I don’t know what to think anymore. I failed Feynriel. I failed him and now he will turn into a demon’s toy doll. He’s gone, long gone by now, headed for Maker only knows where. I can only wonder how long it will be before I see his face again, and what corruption he will bring in his wake when he does reappear. This failure will come back to bite me in the ass, just like Fenris promised. Shaking my head I wonder if there will ever be a time when he isn’t right. For a second I blame the elf, blame him for killing me but the fact of the matter is I screwed up. I should have killed Fenris the moment he turned on me but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. My father’s words echo in my mind. _Love is weakness but it is also our greatest strength._ But everything my father said is now a double edge sword, a mockery of what it once was.Greatest strength how? In tearing your heart out and forcing you to become stronger. In that regard I can understand it. How could I have ever become so foolishly besotted, and with someone who despises mages of all things. I have to cut him out before he poisons anymore of me, before I lose myself in him completely. The part I hate the most is that even now when I think about telling him to leave, knowing he will if I do, my heart wrenches so hard that tears spring to my eyes. I don’t want it, no matter how good it may be for me in the long run, no matter how beneficial it will be for my peace of mind, I can’t bear to imagine it. At what point did he become such an integral part of my life that I can’t imagine it without him?

The sound of metal being drawn breaks through the mindless trance I’ve been walking around in. I look up and realize with some dismay that I have wandered into a seedier section of Kirkwall and in my absentmindedness completely disregarded my surroundings. A dozen or so thugs are forming a semicircle around me all brandishing various forms of weapons and chuckling to themselves.

“Get lost Dearie?” one of the thugs asks.

Good. I could use an outlet for my anger right now. Let them come. Raising my eyebrow in annoyance at the interruption I say, “Isn’t it a little wet out to be harassing people, much less me.” My tone is indignant and it catches the group by surprise.

The one that spoke before cocks his head to the side. “And who are you? Some famous whore from the Blooming Rose?” he suggests with a gyration of his hips, the men erupting into laughter around him.

Shifting my balance I place my hands on top of my daggers, fingers tapping the handles impatiently. “Hawke, Cassandra Hawke.”

The thieves continue to laugh.   I’m not sure what to make of it. I thought myself well known enough now for people to leave me alone. Apparently I was wrong.

“Cassandra Hawke!?” says the same thug again, I am guessing he is the leader. “You must think me daft. Cassandra Hawke is said to be taller than most men and more lithe and graceful than most elves, not to mention her beauty is only to be rivaled by her skills of assassination or that of her voice.”

Varric and his damn tall tales. Soon I’ll be some desire demon half breed. “Yes and if she were here she would lure you to your death with a song and devour your soul” I add jokingly.

He continues, gesturing at me like I have not spoken, “You dearie, are _clearly_ not her.” I’m not sure if I’m more annoyed or insulted right now.   I didn’t think I looked that bad. But perhaps the rain makes me look more like a drowned cat than anything remotely appealing. The expression of degradation he now wears makes up my mind for me. Insulted, definitely insulted.

Tired and more than a little irritated I grip the handles of my daggers more firmly and stare at these men. I blink slowly, feeling my mind disengage and my eyes deaden until there is nothing but white noise in my head. “Turn around and walk away now or none of you will leave here alive.” A few of the men stir uneasily at my lifeless remark, but their brainless leader seems unaffected.

The rain continues to pelt us all, completely mindless of the bloodshed that is about to take place. Lightning strikes followed closely behind by the crack of thunder and it begins. The first man charges forward, eager to impress his band of thieves only to find himself moments later holding his belly with a sort of awful shock written on his face as his entrails spill out. This causes the rest of the thieves to pause, a few backing away.   I hope this will be the end of it, an appallingly prophetic warning of what will happen, but it isn’t enough. Five more charge and my body has a mind of its own, spinning and slashing, dodging and stabbing until it becomes a dance. Five more are down and others join the fray.

There is something to be said of pain and anger when it has found an outlet, raging through these scum with the violent need for the vengeance I will never see. I am not sure how many are left although I am aware that at some point another group of thugs has emerged. Lightning flashes again and again, alternatively igniting the deadly scene and then cloaking its bloody horror in darkness. My palms burn and my rage flares. There are so many and yet I feel the ferocious grin split my face.

I am pain. I am fury. I am _Alive_. My blood sings with energy, my body soaring with adrenaline, my soul consumed with... _Oh no._ The panic catches me off guard just as five of the thugs rush me at once. I freeze for only a moment but it is enough. Instinctively my hand strikes outward and something within me spews forth with the force of a blast I cannot see. The five of them are hurled back into the night. Voices whisper in my head. _Mother, Mother_. My blades fall from numb fingers to hit the ground noiselessly in the deafening roar of the storm.   I back away idiotically like that will somehow protect me from what I have just done, what I now hear.   A volley of arrows are shot from multiple bows. Impulsively my hands raise as my lips form the word ‘No’.   The storm explodes, lightning striking the ground around me in multiple spots, frying a few of my enemies where they stand. But that isn’t the most startling. The arrows strike a seemingly invisible barrier and clatter uselessly to the ground. Somehow I’ve erected a protective barrier around myself and I now stare completely stunned by the sight before me.

_What the fuck is happening?_ The voices in my head become louder and I’m having trouble focusing.

Then I hear the battle cry that serves only to fan the flames. _Why is it every time this happens he shows up?_  Then he is there, white hair flashing with another strike of lightning as I feel my stomach twist at his appearance. _Did he see what I just did? Does he see the barrier around me? I can’t control it. What if I hurt him accidentally?_ I curl my hands into my body and fight the impulse to run. It seems like seconds before the battle is over, the dead bodies lying strewn across the now scarlet stained street. My gaze finds them all, taking in the carnage with a mindless acceptance. I feel nothing, not even an ounce of regret.   _Am I a monster,_ I think. _Yes…Yes you are,_ another answers. It is the voice of my father and I am stunned into silence.

The rain continues its endless pounding on my body, washing away all traces of the blood that was spilled. _If only it were so easy to cleanse my blackening soul_ , I think.

“You’re ability is growing stronger,” Fenris says, drawing my eyes to his. He looks at me strangely with an expression I can’t immediately identify, as if he is even unsure what he should be feeling. “You need help.” The outlet of my rage on the thieves has done little to enhance my mood and it is so much easier to focus on that than to face what I am becoming.

I look at him contemptuously. “And who exactly should I get help from? Anders?” I suggest. He scowls making me sneer, “I thought not. Or perhaps the Circle? Should I turn myself in so they can lobotomize me? Because that is what they will do, you do realize that don’t you? A mage who can’t shut out the voices as they clamor for her attention, was made Tranquil to no avail by her own father no less,” I add, all the abhorrence of that statement showing in my voice. “Do you really think they wouldn’t?”

He has nothing to say in reply and I am not surprised. I feel like a freak, a monster children are told stories about. My father made me tranquil for fear of what I would do, and then hid the truth from me.   I sigh and turn from him, hugging myself in a vain attempt at comfort. My arms fall to their sides “I have no one. Anders would likely use me to further his own means even if he could help me. The Dalish were not successful with Feynriel so I have no doubt they would be less than useless.” I pause, unsure of so many things now. How did I get here? How did it come to this? What do I do? I sigh again, my anger leaving me. “Where do I go, Fenris?” I ask, not looking at him. “Who can help me? Or more importantly who would help me and not just use me or kill me?” I stare off, not really noticing my surroundings or even the downpour of rain. “I’ve been betrayed so many times that I now question my ability to know the difference.” My eyes burn as the first tear spills and I silently thank Mother Nature for the rain. “I feel like everything is falling apart and no matter how much I try to put it back together it just won’t go. The pieces don’t match anymore.”

My mind registers the twang of a bow but not until it is too late.   The pain is sharp and immediate and my entire body jerks with the arrows impact. I scream and search for the source. An assassin alone and forgotten in my outburst. Molten rage erupts from me in the form of a fire ball, and the last thief falls to the ground dead. A throbbing ache so acute makes me cradle the arm into my body. I search for Fenris only to find him staring at the body of the assassin, face unreadable in the burning flames. The fire will not last long in this torrential downpour and I can at least be thankful for that. The stench of burning meat reaches my nose and my stomach growls. It takes me a second to realize that the smell is actually coming from the thief as the body crackles and burns. Bile climbs up my throat until I turn and hurriedly walk away.

His footsteps follow behind me and I know he is doing it intentionally to let me now he is there. Why doesn’t he just leave me alone? Does he think I’m turning even now? I stop when I reach the docks finding no solace in the lapping of the sea against the wooden boards this time. _Sometimes acceptance is one of the most difficult things to give freely to someone_. My father’s words, and now I understand why it was so hard for him.   I wonder in vain if he ever regretted his actions. It would give me some measure of freedom to know that he did. Freedom and acceptance of myself. Thunder rolls and seconds later a bolt of lightning illuminates the sky.   I don’t want to turn around, I don’t want to face Fenris and see the revulsion in his eyes. Is this how it begins, I wonder. First hearing voices, then losing control of my power, until finally a demon gets its claws buried in my subconscious and takes control? My shoulder aches horribly and I know I will have to go see Anders soon but I do my best to ignore it. That is just another problem I will have to confront. There is silence for some time after this and I begin to think perhaps he has left, slunk away while I lose myself in despair _. I can’t do this to myself. Stop it!_ And I try to take a deep breath but it hitches and turns into a half sob. _Oh Maker no. Not now! Stop it!_    Pain radiates from my shoulder and I focus on it, if only to distract my thoughts. Hands balling into fists, I decide this is a pointless venture and head to Anders clinic to get my shoulder dealt with. With the movement I notice he still stands there, immobile as a statue and I find myself getting angry again. Why is he even here? Why does he just stand there? Why doesn’t he say something?

I wheel on Fenris, temper flaring to a dull roar. “Why are you here? What do I need to do to get you to leave me alone?” I ask, peeved. “I could have handled them myself you know, I don’t require your help.”

“Naturally,” he says. His total lack of reaction irritates me even more.

“I don’t need _you_ to save me. I don’t need anyone to save me.” _Because_ _I am already lost._ I wince and stop lashing out at him. Futilely, I attempt to grab the tipped end of the arrow to break it off in my frustration but the amount of twisting that is needed to reach behind succeeds in only more pain and a howl of vexation. Maker, this is like déjà vue.

“I can break it off for you,” he says tonelessly.

Staring over at him resentfully, I snap, “One knife in my back was enough.   Thank you.”

His eyes go cold. “Why do you make it so impossible?”

Staring at him in contempt I say, “ _I_ make it impossible. Who killed who here, because last time I checked _you_ were the one that ripped _my_ heart out.” _In more ways than one._

He gets so close to me as his face twists in outrage that I almost take a step back. His jaw twitches and teeth clench as he grounds out, “And I might as well have ripped out my own.” This makes me bite my tongue. He is silent before adding, “You think I didn’t feel that too? You think I wasn’t screaming inside as I watched you die. I had no control!” His words get louder until he is yelling at me again. “I was a slave in my own body! Forced to watch myself carry out the one thing I’d rather fall on my own sword than do!” The anger fades and he looks at the ground. His features are a mixture of anguish and regret, “I couldn’t kill you when I thought you were lost to me, when I thought the demons had you. What makes you think I would ever willingly hurt you now?”

I don’t know what to say, I don’t know what to think. My shoulder throbs in time with my heartbeat and I want nothing more than to tear the arrow out of my shoulder right now. My jaw hardens and I have to look away. “You’ll find a way,” I growl. But even as I say the words, I am struck with the realization that I will almost certainly let him.

Making a disgruntled sound that is more at myself than at him, I turn to walk away.

“So that’s it. That’s all I am to expect from such a confession.”

Wheeling back around I glare at him. “That’s it? What would you like me to do Fenris? Should I have let you take me right on the blood soaked street amidst all the corpses? Or perhaps you would prefer a little quip pro quo?” I ask derisively as his face goes cold. “You hurt me Fenris, more than anyone else could, more than anyone else should be able to. I don’t like feeling weak and no matter what I do I have no defense against you!” My eyes are watering, rage warring with desire until I feel I will choke with it. The next words come out quiet and strangled. “You’re tearing me apart.” The rain hides the tears that now run freely down my face. “Does that make you feel better? Does it gladden you to think you have such control over me?”

“Control? Control! You speak to me of control? Everything I do-” and he cuts off suddenly. “Every thought I have-” and he cuts off again. We are both soaked to the skin within a foot of each other. I stand there watching as an array of emotions cascade through him so fast that it is nearly impossible for me to tell what he is thinking but the last is crystal clear. Revolting hatred. Before I can say another word he turns and walks quickly away.

I watch his retreating form, seeing the tension pulled tight like a spring in his body. My shoulder stabs horribly reminding me I have a wound to treat, but it is only an echo of the one that now lances through my heart. That one will bleed freely. I head into Dark Town, hoping Anders will be back in his clinic by now.

It never even occurs to me that at some point the voices in my head stopped. Driven silent but the force of my will.

…

“Are you ready?” Anders asks.

I take the flask down from my mouth, grimacing as the liquid burns a path down my throat. The pain is duller now, along with most of my senses and inhibitions. Whiskey will do that. Putting the flask down on the table beside me, I stand back up and glower at him.   One of his hands grips the shaft of the arrow, the other rests over my collarbone. Breaking the tip had been bad enough, this was sure to be worse. “Just do-”

He yanks and I yelp with the sudden pain. “Mother puss bucket!” I scream. He holds the feathered end of the arrow up like a prize in his hand, the shaft stained red with my blood.   I smack him hard across the face with my good arm, the arrow skittering across the floor. “That bloody hurt!” I shout at him accusingly. His cheek flares white then pink in the shape of my hand but he smirks at me good naturedly.

“Well what did you think would happen?   If I had been gentle it would’ve been worse.”

My teeth grind together and I look away. After a few quiet moments I look up at him again. He seems to be waiting for me to do something. My brows furrow inquisitively at him until he frowns and his eyes close momentarily as the soft mutterings of a different language begin. A soothing wave of his magic flows over me and I wince as the torn muscle and tendons in my shoulder stitch themselves up. I sigh when it is done, disregarding the shot of anxiety that strikes me to my core at the reminder of my earlier magical display.  

“Thank you,” I say, and mean it.

Still he frowns at me. “You could’ve just done it yourself you know. Heal it I mean.”

I blink long and sway on my feet, the sensation to flee this conversation and situation is staggering. “I couldn’t get the arrow out. And Fenris was no help.” I say, deliberately misunderstanding him.

“No I mean…” then his curiosity gets the better of him just as I hoped it would. “Fenris?” he asks.

I sit down on a nearby cot, head swirling alarmingly. “Yeah…he uhh…took care of the rest of the thieves,” I tell him.

His eyes narrow at me doubtfully, “And he just left you there with an arrow in your shoulder.”

I look away. “I wasn’t exactly… grateful,” I say a little regretfully, staring at the floor. “We had a verbal spat. He left.” I shrug, enjoying the fact that I can now do that without pain. “You know, the usual context of our intercourses.” _Liar, Liar, pants on fire._ There was so much more in that one little argument than I cared to admit. I knew with a certainty now that he cared for me against his own will and if his last look was any indication, hated me for it.     My own attachment was another issue entirely.

“He cares for you. However much he is loath to admit it.” He says quietly, morosely, somehow reading my mind. I look at him, surprised by this observation. My mouth sets in a thin line and I stubbornly ask, “Why do you say that?”

He glances at me, lip curling sardonically. “You would have to be a complete idiot not to see it.” He looks away again, eyes darkening with some unnamed emotion. “The way he follows you with his eyes, taking in your every move, every breath, every sound, like he can possess them for his own.” His face twists at this and his voice takes on a hasher edge. “Had I not seen it for myself I would not have believed it possible. He is in love with the very thing he hates the most. A mage.” A bitter laugh escapes him.

My lip curls in distaste. “Love? I would hardly call any of his expressions to contain love. Disgust most definitely. Anger or contempt without of doubt.” Then I remember the lift and the trust he put in me, the respect he shows me, the way he always follows me and I feel my face shift demeanor.   “There is a respect there that I don’t fully understand considering he disagrees with everything I do. It’s confusing but it is a relief to know that he will be there despite my position or my decisions. But love?” I shake my head in dissent. “If he even knows what it is or how it feels, he would never allow himself to love a mage.” The comment comes out disdainful but it doesn’t show the sense of loss that beats a hole in my chest.

Anders reads my mind yet again, “You love him.” Clenching my jaw in annoyance, I realize I need to get better at schooling my face. I open my mouth to protest but he silences me with a hand and then shoots me a sad smile, making me feel worse. “It’s alright Cassie. You’ve given me more than ample opportunity. I was the one that turned you down. I was the one that gave you up. Its better this way.” He looks away again, gaze going distant. “Safer,” he says as an afterthought.

“I don’t love him,” I reply quietly. “I care about him…a lot…but I don’t love him. I won’t love him.”

The former warden looks over at me, brows furrowed together. “ Won’t?” he asks. “Love isn’t something you can control or contain. You may win the battle but you won’t win the war.”

“It won’t stop me from trying. You don’t understand. I can’t. It’s…It’s safer this way,” I mutter, echoing his earlier thought. But in this case I mean for my heart, not for any injury that I could sustain from him.

Anders stares at me for a few more moments before looking away again. “It’s also very lonely,” he adds. And I feel like an idiot because he is probably the one person that knows better than anyone what it is to deny your heart its desire. Being what he is, a mage and host to a spirit, he has denied himself any chance of being truly carefree and in love.

“Does it…” I hesitate, not afraid of the actual question but in the unspoken confirmation that he has indeed desired me all this time and has been unwilling to act on it. “Does it ever get easier? Denying yourself, I mean.”

His eyes lock with mine and the longing and desire I see in them is unchecked, raw and real, making my heart pang with shame.   I shouldn’t have asked. I am hurting him. His gaze drifts away again and he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“In the Circle love was always a game. A sadistic game of cat and mouse. You never let yourself get caught, so you could never fall apart,” he says, staring off into space as if he is caught up in some distant memory. “But sometimes you wanted to, just to know that you could, just to get lost, however momentary, in that delirium, that mind consuming sickness that is love. You would welcome the opportunity to have your heart ripped out just to remember that you could.” He laughs and shakes his head. “I must sound like a fool to you.”

“No,” I whisper. “Not at all.”

He glances back at me quickly to give me a lopsided smile before turning away again. “It never gets easier. You just get better at resisting the need. Were it not for Justice I would have caved into you long ago. Freely lost myself inside you.” He says it so easily, so unabashedly that my heart wrenches with guilt. Would that I could lose myself in him now. He would understand. He would be able to protect me from myself. But Fenris… My jaw clenches in frustration and I close my eyes. Tears prick in the corners and I try to take a steadying breath that does not succeed. A hand grazes the back of my neck and pulls me into him as lips graze my temple, igniting a fire under my skin. Anders releases me but it is not before I realize that it isn’t his touch, but the caress of an elf’s lips that I am remembering in his place that burns like acid in my veins.    

“I’m sorry,” I say miserably and open my eyes.

He shakes his head mutely, like there is no need for me to say such things. I sigh heavily. When did my personal life become so complicated?

I lean my head on his shoulder and relax in the momentary relief of someone who cares. Wanting to forget the past forty-eight hours and go back to being blissfully unaware. But there is no going back. The time of ignorance has passed. I must move on. Ander’s voice rouses me from my thoughts. “I’m not sure what exactly you see in Fenris. I can only hope you come to your senses eventually,” his tone is now light and teasing, and it makes me laugh.

“Only if you promise to wait for me?” I reply seductively and instantly want to kick myself at my own stupidity.

He smiles at me, that same boyish grin that made me fall for him so many years ago. I relax, and feel myself smiling back, some of the tension of the past few days melting away. Leaning into him, I rest my head on his feathered shoulder again and close my eyes. The exhaustion of the past few days weighs me down and I yawn. This feels oddly familiar and reassuring, the easy banter and flirty gestures. Idly I hope it will last…

_Run… must run…must get away…_

My eyes snap open with sudden abruptness, chest heaving, and pulse thrumming like the flapping of a bird’s wings in the confines of its cage. Its takes me a few moments to recognize where I am and how I got there. Anders clinic and then it all clicks. I must have fallen asleep on his shoulder. My heart slows and my grip on my dagger, which until this moment I did not realize was held in a viselike grip, relaxes.

“You really should take care where you fall asleep, Hawke,” says Anders voice from some unseen point in the darkened room.

“Oh? Should I?” I ask with some asperity, sitting up slowly and rubbing my temples. My anger is unfounded but is probably the result of the throbbing that is now taking place like a second heart beat in my head, reminding me of the price of drinking, among other things.

“The demons have recognized you as a dreamer. The will haunt your sleep much like they did with Feynriel.”

My motions cease with a wary stillness. Is that what woke me? I don’t remember anything but terror and the sensation of being chased which is disturbing enough in its own right. Anders figure appears some eight feet away in the light of a candle. Our eyes lock for just a moment before I look away.

“So what exactly am I suppose to do? Not sleep?”

I hear his intake of breath, followed by a pause and then an exhalation as if whatever he was going to say he decided against voicing. This process continues until he finally says, “Should things go...” a pause, “badly. It might be best if you had a guard while you slept.”

“Badly as in I become the abomination.”

He nods.

I snort and look at him incredulous, “You can’t be serious.”

He sighs and looks away. “It’s the best option right now.”

“I am not going to post a guard on myself while I sleep. What do I tell Aveline when I request such a thing?” I stand and pretend like I am asking the guard captain. “Oh Aveline, by the way, could you post a guard on my bedroom door so that if I should come back an abomination when I wake they can kill me.” I put a hand on my hip and shift on my feet. “I think even her friendship has its limits.”

His lips curl down in a frown, brows furrowing in annoyance. “Well I don’t think you’ll like the alternative,” he says crossing his arms.

Raising an eyebrow I ask, “And what’s the alternative?”

“Fenris by your side when you sleep.”

My heart races at the possibility as my brain curses it, and I stare at him blankly.   “How exactly will that solve anything?”

He sighs in defeat. “Well, you seem to have an affinity to the lyrium in his skin. And he won’t kill you, despite what may have happened in the Fade.” He pauses, scowling, “Right now you’re a walking drug to the demons. You walk the Fade like any normal human in sleep not even knowing you are doing it but you have the abilities of a mage, a dreamer. You’ve probably been doing it these past three years to their ignorance. But they are ignorant no longer. Not after the events of yesterday. It’s like you’ve screamed, ‘Dinners Ready’ to every demon. They won’t leave you alone. Not now, not ever.” He stares at the ground and is quiet for a moment, face set in repugnance. “As much as it disgusts me to say it I can do little to help you, but Fenris…” he pauses, his features twisting as if he has a bitter taste in his mouth. “Even I have felt the power the two of you create when you touch. He… awakens your abilities…makes you come alive.” He sighs heavily, as if what he has just admitted cost him dearly. Heck, everything he said earlier definitely must have. For him to acknowledge that Fenris is good for anything must have been about as enjoyable as being ripped apart by a mabari. Misery is etched all over his face making me feel awful all over again. “Whatever the reason when you and Fenris are together you become…aware.” He glares at his feet, “Life is not without its ironies it seems, for he has become the harness of your potential.” If I hadn’t been watching him for the corner of my eye I wouldn’t have made out his next words since they were plainly not meant to be heard. “If only it were me.”

My face crumbles and I rush forward to take him in a crushing embrace. He stands still for a moment in shock, then his arms wrap around my body, his head leaning on top of my own. “I forgot that you had the ears of a cat,” he mumbles into my hair.

I bury my face into his chest, breathing in the smell that reminds me of my Lothering home. It had never occurred to me before yesterday that I am being so thoughtless. Always cursing Fenris then clearly pining for him in the same breath all the while he stands here wanting me. “I’m sorry,” I mutter yet again.

His chest heaves in a sort of half laugh and he squeezes me into him even tighter. “I’ve told you, you have nothing to apologize for. It is what it is.”

For a few moments we stand like this, neither wanting to let go, but eventually he is the one to pull away. His face is clouded, so it takes me by surprise when he asks, “Did you keep your fathers journal?”

I pause, not sure where he is going with this question but not liking the subject. Hesitantly, I answer, “Yes.”

He nods. “I think it might be a good idea to open it.” I stare at him, caught up in a mixture of fear and wariness that makes me go absolutely still. This must cause him to hurry with his explanation. “I do not fully understand what exactly happened in the Fade but the fact that you are a dreamer, or at least have the potential to be so, even after the Rite of Tranquility is somewhat…” and he looks away disconcerted before saying, “ Alarming.” I swallow hard as he continues, “Had I known weeks ago I might have advised you to open it, but at the time I assumed you were just a mage, a powerful one maybe, but certainly not a dreamer.”

A lead weight settles in the pit of my stomach, and I think about the memory of my father branding me that I have somehow recalled. I don’t remember anything before the Rite and I assumed it was because I was too young. It has never occurred to me that it could be the Rite of Tranquility itself that erased my memories.   Such an onslaught of conflicting emotions overtakes me. Anger and betrayal at my father, fear of the power that now makes a reappearance, uncertainty of it all and what it could mean and most assuredly by the anxiety that now makes my stomach roil and my throat constrict with apprehension of having to talk to Fenris again _.   Maker, why did it have to be him_.   It seems like fate will not allow the two of us to go our separate ways.

“Why is it that you cannot watch over me, or anyone else for that matter?” I finally reply heatedly.

He stares at me for a few moments as if considering this before simply saying, “I can. They can. But should the worst happen I believe with the…” again the look of tasting something bitter crosses his face as he says, “connection you and Fenris possess he would be able to anchor you in this reality, bring you back to yourself.” He says it with a voice so disconnected that were it not for the betrayal of his face or the mumbled betrayal of his feelings before I would believe him completely free of any attraction. He looks away seemingly unable to take my penetrating gaze any longer.

“We are not connected.”

Anders eyes meet mine for just a moment and I know I am being intentionally deceitful. There has been some kind of unwanted bond there since that moment in the elevator shaft. But if I’m being honest with myself, there has been something between us for quite longer than that.

Pursing my lips in thought, I turn away, unable to think clearly or rationalize anything for that matter.   Therefore my surprise at being spun around is great and the lips that claim my own greater still. His hands gently come behind my neck tilting my head up to him as his kiss becomes deeper, more urgent. I melt into him, letting go of my inhibitions until my imagination takes control and with a sudden shock I am wishing it were Fenris. Immediately I draw back and he apologizes.

“I’m sorry Hawke, but I had to know. Just once. What it was like.” He hurriedly turns away and goes to his desk, busying himself with something and calls over his shoulder. “I will help you if need be and would welcome the chance but you know my opinion on the subject,” He says with a finality that leaves no room for debate. “Talk to him.” I stare for a few moments, hearing the dismissal of his words and want to say something snarky in reply but don’t have the energy for it. So instead I turn and walk away.


	12. Bitter Pill

The next week passes in a blur, leaving me very little time to contemplate anything but the back of my eyelids when the breaks finally do come.  The stormy weather passed eventually as did my anger.  The back of my mind is telling me that it is because my mood has changed and the weather is reacting to it but I shut it out.  No need for more complications that I can do nothing about right now.  I can’t worry about something that may never prove to be true or come to pass; it’s like paying a debt that I’ll never owe.  In other words, pointless.  The only things I can control right now are my growing powers, my feelings for a certain elf, and how I react to them.  I am heading to take care of one of them right now.

I glance around me, seeing nothing unusual but I’ve been unable to get rid of the goosebumps that break out on the back of my neck every time my head is turned, like someone is watching me.  Walking past the Chantry for maybe the tenth time, I pass it off as anxiety over the revelations I have yet to come to grips with from last week.  I can’t afford to be distracted again.  There is too much at stake.  The tensions between the Qunari and Kirkwall are rising to a fever pitch and the Arishok claims they cannot leave because the Qun demands.  The entire thing makes no sense but then very little does in this city anymore.  There is something to be said for stability.  While we all strive for peace when everything is turned upside down, when we attain it we do everything possible to make it chaotic again.  Human natures vital flaw.

Fenris has been absent since that day in the rain, or at least absent while I’m conscious to the world.  Based on the number of almost daily requests Aveline receives from the nobility asking for his removal she says he’s still in the mansion. I am trying to get the courage to confront him now but instead find myself walking in circles around Hightown.  _What am I doing?  Grow a back bone, Hawke_ , I tell myself. After all, Varric’s friendship has its limits.  I smile to myself, remembering his comments this morning.

_“Maker’s breath, Hawke,” he had cried out in exasperation. “You can’t keep coming here every damn night just so I can watch you sleep.” He had rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. “I’m no good with this weird magic shit. First it’s, I could become an abomination; the next it’s, you’ll have to kill me if I do. You dump all of that on me when you could just go to the elf and fix everything, and I know you want to Hawke, no point denying it; I’ve seen the way you look at him. So save your breath and keep your denials to yourself.”_

At first I was bristled at his brutal honesty and if I hadn’t adored the dwarf I might have done something regrettable.  And truth be told, Varric had a way of saying things that made most people react one of two ways, either an intense desire to take a swing at him or admiring the balls it took to say it.  I shook my head and snorted in amusement.  They must be balls of steel.

_“Varric, there are times I wish I could just screw your jaw shut but then I realize I’d miss your banter too much.  You are one double edged sword”_

_He smirked, “I don’t believe in filtering the truth.  Watching the reactions is too much fun”_

_I laughed, “Somehow this doesn’t surprise me.”_

_“Oh come now Hawke, stirring the pot is half the fun.  If you can’t live life on the edge it isn’t worth living.”_

_I sighed and stared at the ground. “I lost that ability three years ago and I’ve been hiding ever since.”_

_He eyed me sympathetically.  “There is a very easy way to start rectifying that.”  I had already known he was referring to…Fenris.  I jerked my head once, hard in denial._

_“In all seriousness,” he said, his tone conveying the depth of his words, “I would do anything for you Hawke, you know that.  And you can stay here anytime and sleep.  Ever since the Deep Roads I can’t sleep more than a few hours before waking anyway.  I’m always hearing those damn rock wraiths scrabbling across the ground.  Can’t seem to break the habit, and considering three years have come and gone I doubt I ever will.”  He shrugged. “But talk to the elf.  He’s been coming down here every night this week anyhow.”_

_My eyes narrowed, “I think I would have seen him then since I’ve been sleeping on your couch the past six nights.”_

_He looked at me dubiously, “Yes you would have, had you been awake.”_

_“He comes after I’m asleep?” I asked in astonishment._

_His lips quirked in a knowing smile.  “The first time was by accident I think.  He honestly just came to talk to me and then asked why you were here and I figured someone had to divulge what was going on to him.  Every night after though,” he shook his head.  “Between the two of you I think I’ve managed maybe ten hours of sleep this entire week.  I can’t handle much more without passing out.”_

To say I reacted to this incredulously would not have even come close the enormity of my denial.  I mean, considering the look he last gave me, I would have thought he would have stayed purposefully away.  But since that is clearly not the case I can’t help but wonder.

 I look up to find myself in front of his door.  Placing my hand on the cold wood, I take a deep breath and hesitate.  _Damn it Cassie_ , _go in already_.  _Learn to leap again._   With more willpower than I would have thought necessary, I push it open and head inside.  As I walk up the stairs I can feel my heart begin to race in anticipation.  When I am almost at his bedroom door I hear voices beyond it.  Isabela it sounds like, talking with Fenris.

“If you don’t give into it soon you’ll drive yourself mad,” she is saying enticingly.

I stop just shy of entering.  _This is wrong, this is so wrong.  I shouldn’t eavesdrop_.  But I can’t seem to propel myself forward.  What if they’re…  I can’t complete the thought.

“You’re mistaken,” he replies.  “If I can endure years of enslavement, I can endure this.”

I hear a bunch of grunting and other sounds I can’t distinguish.  My heart sets to pounding, as anger roils my blood.  I know I have no claim to Fenris but I always thought there was some kind of girl code.  Don’t try to seduce someone that your companion is interested in.  But then again this is Isabela we are talking about.  I can’t help it then.  I walk in, fully intending on catching them in some compromising position.  Instead I am met with a rather tame scene, with her standing behind a chair and Fenris leaning forward on his knees as he sits on the bench across from her.

“Hawke!” she says cheerfully at me, and winks, causing the elf to jerk his head up, startled at my appearance.  “I told you so,” she tells him simply and gives him and me a devious smirk as she walks out.

I stroll in, much more sedate than I was five seconds ago.  He stares at me as I approach him, seemingly wary of my arrival.  I sit down across from him, hearing the echo of the door shutting downstairs.

“Should I even ask what that was about?” I say, jerking my head in the direction of Isabela.  He shakes his head in dissent and looks at the floor. 

“What can I do for you, Hawke?” he asks impassively, professionally. 

I’m frowning before I know that I am.  I hoped this wouldn’t be so uncomfortable but then again what did I expect.

“I just…” and I hesitate, fighting the instinct to curl in a ball on the chair.  I stare down at my hands, and I realize I’m wringing them subconsciously and make myself stop.  “I just want to say I’m sorry.”  That wasn’t what I meant to initially say but it’s what comes out first.  I realize belatedly that I am sorry for how I treated him, very sorry.  I was acting like the girls in the village at Lothering used to act when some guy had treated them poorly, petulant, sulky, and annoying.  Maker, I hated those girls. 

“You didn’t deserve my anger,” I pause and reword.  “Well, no, that’s not completely true but at least not to the extent that I reacted anyway.”  I stare at him waiting for a reaction.  His head comes up slowly to regard me with those sharp green eyes.  Subconsciously I hold my breath for a moment then it all explodes out of me in a horrendous stream of word vomit.

“It’s just that you make me so angry and you always seem to be there when I am weak and I don’t like being weak.  I’m not allowed to be weak or so many things can go wrong and I fail people.  I fail them again and again and it weighs so heavy on me sometimes that I think I can’t bear it.  Then you come along and pull me up and I get mad because I should be able to pull myself up, not need anyone else, not be dependent on anyone else.  I can’t be, because what happens if you leave, or any of you leave and suddenly my support net is gone.  I’ll tell you what happens; I go face first into the pit.  Just like with Bethany.”  _Oh Maker Cassie shut up._ “A pit so deep I’m scared I’ll never see the light again.  And I’ll claw at the walls until my fingernails are bloody calling for you, hoping you’ll come.  So don’t you see?  Don’t you see why I can’t, why I can’t…” _love you_ , I finish silently, equally shocked and scared at my own feelings.  I am clenching my knees so hard that my fingers are throbbing and I have to tell myself to let go.  And now I do want to throw up literally.  I can’t believe I just spewed all of that at him. 

For a few agonizing moments he is silent as I rub my sweaty palms on my pants.  He wears no discernible expression, other than maybe vague surprise but that’s all I can tell.  I want to laugh scornfully at myself for being so stupid.  What did I expect?  A declaration of love?  For him to touch me so delicately like he did in the elevator shaft that day?  A bitter taste is left in my mouth and I suddenly want nothing more than to be out of this house, this city, this life. 

“I’m sorry Fenris.  I…I need to go.” 

Hastily getting up, I run to the door, down the stairs and out of the house.  I hear his voice calling out behind me but I can’t turn around.  I can’t turn around and see the rejection or worse the pity on his face.  My lungs begin to burn as I sprint as fast as my body will take me and what feels like moments later I am out of Kirkwall running up to Sundermount.  Legs throbbing, gasping for air, I keep going until I feel I’ll either faint or my heart will give out. 

I do neither.

An armored hand grabs my elbow and I’m thrown off balance, bringing the phantom hand and its owner with me.  We fall in a heap of limbs and I let out an ommph as we both collide with the ground.  We roll a few times before coming to a stop.  When the world rights itself and my vision clears, I am staring up at the bright blue sky, panting heavily.  My companion gasps likewise next to me and I glance over already knowing it is Fenris.

He’s cursing through baited breath in Tevinter.  Some I have heard before, others I have not.  I sit up, still breathing heavily and look around.  The wind howls, whipping my hair around my face as I try to catch sight of him.  “Couldn’t just let me go, huh?” I say, and give a small exhalation of amusement.  He gives a snort but says nothing in reply.  The sun is so bright it hurts my eyes until suddenly it’s light is eclipsed and I glance up.  We are next to an outcropping of rock and next to it a few shadows have appeared.  Getting to my feet quickly, I turn to Fenris to see he has already spotted them.  Faces I don’t recognize look down at us from their high perch, half a dozen in all.  Fenris reacts to them violently, pulling out his sword and brandishing it before him with a murderous look.  “Hunters,” he growls.

When I glance back up at them again the mage in the group speaks directly to me.

“Stop right there.  You are in possession of stolen property.  Give the slave over now and you will be spared.”

For real?  They happen to show up now, right when we are in this compromised position?  Then it dawns on me.  They must have gotten intel from someone.  There are plenty enough people who know who I am and I’ve been seen with him enough that they must have had someone shadow me.  It also explains the skin crawling sensation of being watched that I’ve been dealing with the last few days.  So they have finally come for him, three years later.  Persistent bastards, aren’t they?

“I won’t let you take him!” I yell back at the mage.  Out of the corner of my eye I see Fenris glance at me and then the battle begins.

It’s doesn’t take long.  For being a band of hunters they are rather pathetic.  A couple of well-placed hits and it’s over, aside from one lone survivor that I have a feeling won’t survive long.    Fenris has his hand about his throat demanding information out of him.  Hadriana has come for him, whoever Hadriana is.  Obviously some pet of Danarius if I can tell anything by the way Fenris spits her name out when it’s over.

He is in a murderous rage.  In fact I’ve never seen him so upset.  The man begs for his life to no avail.  With a viscous twist of the neck, the last of the hunters is dead.  I don’t want to feel anything for that man, who now stares up at the sky with lifeless eyes; should I feel pity for him, should he have been spared, was he a man who just followed orders in fear of what would happen if he didn’t?  I’m just not sure.   I pull my eyes away from those of the dead man and look up into the green eyes of death. 

“I was a fool to think I was free,” he says with such pain, such malice that it turns my stomach.

I take one involuntary step back from that face, that darkness, the beast that peers out from them.  Coldness creeps up my spine and I shiver.  When he sees my reaction his features harden but he says nothing as his lips twist with distaste.

“Is this someone you know?” I whisper.

Immediately that savage need for revenge is in his eyes again but I manage not to cringe this time.

“My old master’s apprentice.  I remember her well.  A sniveling social climber who would sell her own children if she thought it would please Danarius.  If she’s here it’s at his bidding.  I knew he wouldn’t let this go,” he hisses with such venom that I realize I can’t even begin to understand what he is feeling.

“They must be stopped,” I reply nodding my head, “Let’s get the others and we will go after them.”

 This is met with a certain amount of irritation but I am not about to run off in search of a band of hunters with only the two of us.  In the end this logic must be sound to him for he consents, begrudgingly, and we go back to retrieve Merrill and Varric.  In hindsight, bringing Merrill probably wasn’t the wisest of decisions as the little Dalish never thinks before she speaks and is naïvely supportive of blood magic.  Not smart, definitely not smart.

 “Did you step on something sharp, Fenris?” Merrill asks.

“No,” he replies belligerently.

“Slam your fingers in a door?”

“No.”

“Smack your head on a low beam?”

 _“_ Is there a point to this line of questioning?” he asks irately.  _Oh Maker, he is going to kill her before we even get there_ , I think.

“Just wondering why you’re so cross all the time,” she remarks casually.  _Oh Merrill, this really isn’t the time._

Varric pipes up, “I think he jabs himself with those spikes, personally.” 

I stifle a laugh, barely.  Balls of steel.

“Perhaps it’s the inane prodding,” Fenris mumbles.  I smile at his reply but check the laugh.  He wasn’t even partly sarcastic when he said it and the look on his face now when I look back at him tells me he has only one thing on his mind right now and that’s Hadriana.

After a small skirmish with some hunters, we enter the first den of the cave where the remains of a male elf lay across the stone slab.  Hesitantly, I walk up and stare down at this carcass.  His body is a harsh deathly white against the dark grey of the stone.  His lifeless eyes stare up at the ceiling in horror, their most startling part being the color.  Bright red, like freshly spilled blood.  I swallow hard.  Blood is everywhere.  The stains stand out in the flickering firelight like slashes of paint.  It makes me nauseous and I have to look away.

Fenris regards me coolly and says, “See for yourself.  The legacy of the magisters.”  And I don’t want to look anymore.

Merrill’s voice seems to come from far away, “They sacrifice the unwilling?”  As if a willing sacrifice for blood magic is any better.

“Is that so hard to believe?” he snaps at her.  “You are only a step away from it yourself.”

“That’s not true,” she whines back, making me want to slap her to get her to shut up.

“Believe what you like.  In my experience, mages always find a way to justify their need for power.”  Is that a jab at her or all mages?  What will he think of me after this night? 

His body is drawn so tight that it looks like his muscles might snap from the strain.  When I see his face I realize it is a scarcely contained rage that boils just underneath the surface.  When his eyes find mine I see his beast peer out, patiently waiting its release.  I look away and continue ahead, almost pitying this Hadriana that will have to face such a force, almost.  We leave the room and continue forward through the twisting pathways of the cave.   

After a few more skirmishes we run into an elf that cowers on the ground.  She is half way to tears and terrified beyond reason.  She is a slave, an expendable slave for sacrifice.  The thought sickens me.  What is wrong with these people?  Are all mages in Tevinter like this?  Do they all sacrifice their slaves for power?  I manage to calm her down and, after some deliberation on my part, tell her to go to my house where maybe I can give her a job, a secure roof over her head and an income.  I have more than enough money to support her, and Bodahn, I am sure, would appreciate the help.  After she leaves Fenris looks at me with a measure of disgust.

“I didn’t know you were looking for a slave.”

I turn to him and let my face show all the revulsion that statement implies.  Does he think so low of me, just because I have magic in my blood?  “I plan on _paying_ her Fenris.  I thought a job better than just throwing money at her that would probably be stolen within an hour.”

“Oh,” he says, slightly abashed and looks at the ground.  _Insert foot into mouth here_ , I think, _you pain in the ass_. 

“Well,” I say mocking, and make a dramatic display of letting him take the lead.  “Since you seem to know these caves so well.”

He looks up and scowls but walks in front of me nonetheless.  I probably shouldn’t take the proverbial jab at him knowing he is already on edge at finally getting revenge but he is so hurtful sometimes that I speak without fully thinking about how he will react.  I follow him, letting Merrill and Varric get between us as a sort of buffer that will probably not work in the long run. 

We are approaching the end of a long tunnel and by his body tension alone I can tell this is it.  This is where Hadriana is.  But that is not all.  I can feel it like spiders crawling over my skin.  The power that emanates from behind this door is huge and cold.  It is not a cold of temperature but of intent.  From what my father always told me, one mage can tell a lot about another just by the feel of their magic when they prepare to cast it.  I’m frowning now.  Why would he tell me that if he knew I wasn’t a mage, unless he suspected I would eventually gain my power back?  Confused, I push the thought aside to face the problem at hand.  Absently I rub my hands along forearms as the power flows over me.  It is so different from anything I have ever felt.  Not righteous in its anger in battle or calm and giving which until this moment I did not realize is what I have always felt from Anders.  “Hmmph,” I mumble, not realizing I verbalize the surprise of this thought.  So Anders was good after all.  Or at least his magic claimed him to be.  A wave of nausea rolls over me as the magic strengthens.  This is more like being eaten alive by acid; it’s malicious and sadistic and makes me want to run. 

“Is this what blood magic feels like?” I ask huskily when we reach the door.

Fenris turns around and smiles, but it isn’t a nice smile at all, more like a bearing of teeth.  “Feels good does it?  That is what it is to be a magister.  This is their inheritance, their power.”

“Good?  I feel like my skin is turning inside out.  This feels good to you?” I ask petulantly.

His face falters momentarily until Merrill comments, “My body is thrumming with excitement.”  My head turns and I stare at her open mouthed.  “Everything feels alive and at my disposal.  Its… Amazing.”  The word drawls out as she looks around wide eyed.  “I feel like I could rule the world.”  Her eyes flick to mine and then to the others and asks, “What?  It’s not like I want to.  I have no desire to rule the world, I mean, I was next in line for Keeper and I didn’t even want that.  I just want to help my people.  Bring back their inheritance.  Is that so bad?”

I wouldn’t have thought so at first but seeing the methods she has taken I am not so sure.  There is a reason some things are better left off buried in the dregs of the past.  I chose to say nothing but I can’t stop the frown from forming on my face.  This will be problematic down the road.   

Fenris pulls his sword from behind his back.  I keep waiting for him to comment again but surprisingly he doesn’t.  He just turns to the door and throws it open, screaming his rage at the top of his lungs.  _The beast is free_.  And then there is no more time for thinking…

He stands over Hadriana as she cowers on the floor appearing like some kind of vengeful angel you hear about in fairy tales.  It is stunning in both its beauty and ferocity.  He bends over her, brands igniting and instantly I feel their song, calling to me like a lost lover.  _Oh Maker what is happening to me_?

“Stop!  You do not want me dead,” she spews out the words like a confession. 

“There is only one person I want dead more,” he snarls.

“I have information and I will trade it in return for my life,” she pleads.

“Ha.  The location of Danarius?  What good will that do me.  I’d rather he lose his pet pupil.”

“You have a sister.  She is alive.”

He falters.  And if I notice his hesitation then I know Hadriana does.  The information expels from her in a rush and all I can do is listen to this poisonous drabble and pray he won’t listen.  My prayers aren’t answered.  Whether it is true or not the damage is done.  Now he will wonder what happened to her and give Danarius the opening he needs to find him.  It’s a trap.  I know it.  She knows it.  He knows it. 

“How do we know you are telling the truth,” I shout at her.

She looks at me and smiles, condescending and ugly.  "You don't,” she mocks.  "But I know Fenris, and I know what he is searching for. If he wants me to give up Danarius then he will have to pay for it,” she says, practically spitting the last words.

 _Wow this woman has balls to rival Varrics’._ Fenris looks to me briefly and my jaw tightens.  “This is your call,” I tell him.

He kneels down in front of her. The wrath simmers below the surface like a great leviathan waiting for its chance to strike. She will not survive this, not while he is alive.

"I have your word? Your sister's location for my life?" she asks.

The words leave his lips in a rumble as if giving her the chance to live is costing him dearly "Yes, you have my word."  To say I am shocked would be an understatement.  This woman is attached to the bane of his existence and he is willing to let her live.  My eyes widen with wonder.  Maybe there is hope for us after all.

"Her name is Varania, she is in Qarinus serving a magister by the name of Ahriman," Hadriana tells him.

"A servant. Not a slave?"

"She's not a slave."

"I believe you" he says and his markings ignite highlighting her look of surprise. _No._   His hand plunges into her chest, squeezes and jerks back in a spray of blood.  He stands staring at the body with so much hate.  His hands ball into fists at his sides repeatedly like he is trying to remember the feel of ripping out her heart.  But that is not what bothers me the most, what rips a hole in my heart is the look on his face when he did it.  It was like being a bystander to my own death in the Fade.  The same eyes, the same facial expression.  Something in my chest twists.  And then the beast’s eyes turn to mine and they burn into me, branding me with their malignance. 

"We are done here." His words come out more like a growl than anything intelligible.

"So much for not killing her,” I remark snidely.  I know as soon as I say it that I should have bitten my tongue.

He turns back and stalks towards me like a predator then spits on the ground.  “That’s what her bloody deal was worth. This could be a trap.  Danarius could have sent Hadriana here to tell me about this 'sister'. Even if he didn't, trying to find her would still be suicide. Danarius has to know about her and has to know that Hadriana knows." He looks past me at her body and sneers.  "But all that matters is I finally got to crush this bitch's heart." Turning his back to me he walks towards the door. "May she rot….and all other mages with her."

The pain is sharp and immediate just like he intended it to be.  I hate him right now.  Hate him for his inability to move on, for his betrayal of me in the Fade, for going back so easily on his word.  I hate him.  I need to leave.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say, more to everyone else than at him but he replies to me anyway.

“No!  I’m not going anywhere with you. You saw what was done here!  There's always going to be some reason, some excuse why mages need to do this. Even if I found my sister, who knows what the magister's have done to her.

His eyes bore into mine, his scowl so deep that the lines stand out on his forehead.  His lips curl in a mockery of a smile and he says, “What has magic touched that it doesn’t spoil.” 

Words fail me.  An ache so deep starts in my chest and I want to strangle him.  He knows what that would do to me, knows the pain that comment would cause with all of my magical issues.  Why does he make me feel like I am the bad guy?  What makes him think I want this ability?  I would give it away if I could.  I hate him.  I hate him for making me feel like some kind of parasite.  My fingers burn with electricity, sharp shocks prickling along the tips. 

His hand rubs along his forehead and he turns away mumbling, “I have to go.”

And then he is gone.

I scream and a bolt of lightning erupts from my hands and hits the far off wall of the cavern.  Varric and Merrill stand still, stunned.  I fall on my knees and begin to sing.  The magic leaves me, washing away like the current of a river into the earth.  I sigh and know this was probably the wrong choice as I need to learn to control my abilities.   But right now I just need it out of me, Maker damn me for being so foolish but I can’t take it. 

“You alright, Hawke?” Varric asks.

“Sure,” I mutter, “Right as rain.”

He seems to consider saying something then just shakes his head.  “Well, I think after that we all deserve a drink.”

We start walking back together, firelight flickering along the damp stone walls.  “You drink one for me,” I say.  “I just want to go home.”

He eyes my doubtfully.  “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks again.

I manage a wan smile that’s completely fake.  “I’ll be fine.  I just…I just need some time alone.”  I feel him watch me a moment longer before deciding to let it go.

“Alright,” he says around a sigh.

And after that we travel the rest of the way back to Kirkwall in silence.

…

I walk into my house intending on taking my aggression out on some of the dummies I use for sparing out in the back yard.  My daggers are still in my hand and when I breeze through the living room I am struck dumb by the figure sitting against the wall.

My eyes narrow immediately and my grip tightens around the handles. 

“I’ve been thinking about what happened with Hadriana.  You and I don’t always see eye to eye but that doesn’t mean you deserved my anger.  I owe you an apology.”

 _You owe me a lot more than that_ , I think.  A lot of nasty replies come to mind but in the end I go the way of sarcasm.

“I had no idea where you went.  I was concerned,” I remark dryly. 

He doesn’t realize it, or ignores it and his brow furrows and his eyes become lost.  “I needed to be alone.”  He takes a couple of steps away from me, lost in some distant memory of his old life.  Waves of anger flow in and out of him as he struggles to maintain a sense of calm as he tells me the story.  But all I can see is the thrust of his fist into her heart.  Did it feel the same as when he crushed mine?  Did he enjoy it?  

“Admit it.  You just wanted to kill her.”

He stops in his tracks and glares at me.  "And what would you have me do? Hadriana came after me.  I have never had the choice to simply walk away. Am I supposed to forgive no matter how many times they hunt me down? Am I supposed to forget all the things they've done to me?"

“You may not wear chains anymore.  But you are not free.”

His expression becomes murderous and he yells, “You know nothing of being a slave!”  His arms begin to shake at his sides.  He raises them, gazing down at his hands in disgust, the clench so tight that I wonder if he is stabbing himself with those spiky gauntlets of his.  "It's a sickness this hate, this dark growth inside me that I can't ever get rid of and _they_ put it there."

Suddenly all the fight leaves him in a dramatic sigh and his arms drop to his sides and he turns away shaking his head.  “This isn’t why I came here.”

“You need to cool down,” I say to him coldly. 

He storms out muttering, “No doubt you are right.”

I head immediately out the backdoor to my little space of grass that contains only my dummies and sparring gear.  I don’t even bother changing weapons and immediately start hacking away. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we all know what happens next. And I promise next chapter the inevitable occurs. I hope you all enjoyed this latest addition. Thank you all that have commented last chapter and in past chapters. You keep me writing when I want to stop. As long as you all express interest I will keep on writing. until next time...


	13. Bad Romance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its finally here. Couldn't wait to post it anymore. Explicit material in this chapter, warning you all now. And I have a major musical inspiration for this one. 'Thirty seconds to Mars' cover of "Bad Romance". If you have never heard it you should give it a listen. Next chapter will not be up for two to three weeks. You have now reached the point in the material that I am still writing. So without further ado...

The next day I wake up to sore muscles and headache.  The headache is so bad that I’ve kept to my room most of the day, blocking the sunlight that persists in streaming through the windows.  The soreness I could deal with, however I must have been grinding my teeth so bad in my sleep that I’ve developed this ungodly headache that I’ve been nursing the entire day. 

Because of this it is not until just nightfall that I finally emerge.  I walk into candle light and a deserted living room.  My mother must be out or already in bed, as for the others I am not sure where they are.  Orana’s lithe form appears from the shadows, scaring me almost half to death, asking me if I need anything.   I smile and chuckle at myself then ask her to prepare a bath for me

About an hour later I crawl in the tub and lean back, thankful more than words can say and revel in the warm water that must have taken forever to accumulate to this extent.  After getting fairly clean I throw on a robe and head down stairs.   In the kitchen, I get out a block of cheese and cut off a few slices and close my eyes in silent pleasure as the taste bursts across my tongue.  Then I recall the fine bottle of Aggregio that I had been saving and quickly sprint down the stairs to retrieve it.  I am coming up from the cellar with the bottle when the door slams open then closed.  I put the wine bottle down, grab the daggers that sit just at the end of the table and crouch in the shadows only to rise a moment later when Fenris storms in. 

_What does he want_? I think, my lips already forming a frown until I see the expression on his face.  I am not entirely sure what it is I see there.  Frustration?  Anger? Need?  Some combination of the three?  It’s an expression I haven’t seen him wear before.

 “Fenris?” I say rather startled and more than a little perplexed. I place my daggers down and before I can ask ‘ _what’s wrong?’_ the words seem to pour out of him.

“I have been thinking of you…In fact I have been able to think of little else.  Command me to go and I shall.”

A flood of emotion flows through me as I stare at his beautiful, deadly face.  Could it really be possible?  He cares for me, I know, his actions have shown me that even if I deny it to myself with every breath.  I don’t know why I find it so hard to accept that he could possibly want more.  I am the epitome of everything he hates, everything he sees wrong with the world.  We’ve said such horrible things to each other that I cringe just thinking of them.

He is so close.  So close its intoxicating.  So close I want to reach out and run my fingertips over the brand of lyrium that wraps around his chin.  I want him.  Maker help me I want him.  I’ve wanted him from the moment he gave over control to me in that Lift.  Every time we are close the urge to reach out and close that distance is so strong I often find myself wrapping my arms in front of my chest just to control it.  There must be a reason, why I can’t seem to keep my distance, why he can’t stay away?  Something more than just lust or even love.  I can accept that now.  If that trip to the Fade had shown me anything it brought to light just how much we feel for each other.  And it scares me to death.  But I can’t stop myself from saying it, only so I can know just once what it is like.

 “No need,” I say, trying to sound casual.

Closing that distance without a second’s hesitation, his mouth is on mine, demanding and toxic.  My heart beats faster like it could take flight from my chest, as my hands go into his hair gripping it tightly, wanting more.  His mouth opens and I taste him, taste the faint hint of the wine he must have been drinking.  Our tongues intertwine and instantly I can feel the lyrium burned into his skin, like his whole body has just turned on.  It calls to me, igniting a fire within me I didn’t even know was out.  I end the kiss abruptly and push him against the wall.  There is a moment of fear in his eyes but I barely register it before I close that distance again, lips crushing, body grinding against his painfully obtrusive armor. 

He makes a growl in the back of his throat and an instant later I am slammed into the wall with my hands pinned above my head with one of his, and somehow the call of the lyrium disappears. 

“You are not in control,” he whispers in my ear.  My heart flips and blood pools between my thighs.   His mouth crushes mine, then travels down the edge of my jaw, then my throat, biting and teasing the entire way.  His free hand travels up the length of my waist stopping just below my breast through the robe.  I whimper, pulling feebly at my restrained hands and thrusting my body out for more, only to hiss when his armor juts into my tender skin.  I feel him smile against the skin of my throat, licking and tasting.  “Careful,” he breathes against me and I shiver. 

“Fenris,” and his name comes out like a sigh. “There are other people who live in this house,” I say, voice breathy with desire. 

“Then we will have an audience,” his voice rumbles against my neck.  This serves to pull my libido back into coherent thought.  I can’t do this out here, not when so many people could just come out and see.  I attempt to pull my hands out of his suspended grip above my head only to have him squeeze harder and press against me.  This hurts more than it feels good and I yelp in protest.   Suddenly, his weight is gone and I am shocked by the coolness of the air against my flushed skin. 

“Did I hurt you?”

I laugh breathily, “No, just your armor.  So many damn spikes.”

He smirks and starts to undo the buckles around his wrists for his gauntlets.  When the first one comes off I feel my breathing pick up in eager anticipation then immediately curse at myself.  I will be damned if I am going to stand here and practically orgasm while he takes his armor off.  

Turning my back on him, I leave him there and go to the kitchen.  The cheese lies on the counter forgotten as I grab two glasses from the shelf and then take a deep breath.  “This is really happening,” I whisper to no one.  Absently my hand rises to brush the small smile that breaks across my lips and a thrill runs through me.  My heart is racing in my chest.  Three years of torture finally coming to a close.  I take the glasses and head back out to where he waits. 

He’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and the look on his face is somewhat clouded.   I slow when his eyes meet mine and raise my eyebrows in question waving the glasses.  “I was going to have a drink or three alone but if you’re here maybe it’s time to redecorate the walls.” I grin, reminding him of that time I teased him about not sharing the wine he had.  He gives me a lopsided smile and grabs the wine bottle from the table, looking at the label.

“Aggregio,” he murmurs, looking up at me again and then gets this devilish grin on his face.  “I could think of a few things to redecorate.”  My heart skips a beat and my entire body comes alive with that look that promises every forbidding thing I have ever imagined.  I am forced to close my eyes just to get some measure of control because I am very close to jumping him again.   The wine glasses make a sharp ear grating sound from my tightening grip.  Immediately I ease up on them and Fenris is taking my hands and the glasses carefully out of my grasp.   I never knew I could want someone so…so voraciously.    My thoughts suddenly go south.   _But what if it backfires?  What if this makes things worse_?  Both of our tempers are so frail that this could just as easily turn sour.  “Are you sure about this?” I ask, giving him and myself one last way out, knowing I won’t take it.

That smirk of his slips and his expression becomes serious.  “I can only do one of two things… Leave this city and you completely or give myself over to this madness that I cannot seem to live without.”  He grabs my hand and raises the inner part of my wrist to his lips, leaving a whisper of a kiss there, his warm breath sending shock waves of pleasure right to my loins.  “Leaving is not an option I can tolerate,” he mutters. 

Wow, I think, as a blissful smile forms on my lips.  _Delirium, here I come_. 

The gauntlets and breast plate of his armor are quickly discarded onto the table next to my swords.  He stands in front of the stairs, effectively blocking me from escaping to the privacy of my bedroom.  Deftly the buckles to the leather armor underneath are released and removed.  It peels off like a second skin and my fingers itch with the need to trace those lyrium swirls and the muscles that stretch beneath them.  He is exposed from the waist up, every inch seeming chiselled from marble but there are flaws in the design.  In between the lyrium brands that decorate so much of his upper body are a myriad of scars.  Some just small white lines while others are large enough that scar tissue has formed.  There are so many that I can’t keep count and I am reminded of the pain he must have endured during his time as a slave and his escape so many years ago. There is one in particular that is gruesome, just below the left side of his rib cage is a long mounded over scar that starts at the bottom of the ribcage and goes down to his hip.  I gently touch and follow the line of mounded scar tissue.  He shivers, causing me to look up into his eyes.  They are closed and he seems to be concentrating on something. 

“That one nearly cost me my life,” he mutters.  My fingers trace up and down the scar as I guess at what could cause such an ugly wound until he finally grabs my hand and stops it.  I smirk as my eyes travel the length of his chest, following the intricate swirls of the lyrium as I do and can’t help but appreciate the magnificence of it.  Though flawed, it is inescapably beautiful in showing the strength of will of its holder.   My eyes finally find his face again and after a few moments of taking it all in he gets this look of wry amusement. 

“When you look at me like that it makes me want to rip your clothes off and take you where you stand,” he says.

Those words cause my pulse to pound so hard that my neck feels like it vibrates.  “And what’s stopping you?” I ask, my skin flushing with excitement as I bite my lip.  His expression changes. 

“Venhedis,” he growls with suppressed excitement.  His hand grabs my chin, pulling my bottom lip out from its catch as my eyes grow wide, breath hitching in my throat.  Then his mouth is on mine and I am drowning in need again.  His kiss is searing and demanding that it makes me groan low in my throat.  He stops only long enough to shove me against the wall, then he pulls down the top of my robe and in the same motion wraps his strong arms under my bottom and hoists me up in the air.  My legs instinctively wrap around his waist while I lean against the wall naked from the waist up. I can feel the strain of him underneath his pants as he grinds into my most intimate part. 

“Fenris,” I whisper breathily, my hands moving to grip his hair.

My breath catches when his mouth locks over my breast worrying my nipple into a hard point as my body seems to have a mind of its own and arches against him.  He bites down and I stifle the cry that wants to erupt from my throat.  He breaks only long enough to find the other and I am having a hard time keeping my wits about me to resist.  A loud sound comes from the other room, as if something was knocked over, and I am suddenly completely aware just how out in the open we are.  His tongue flicks and his teeth bite relentlessly, my body writhing against him with a mind of its own.

“Fenrisss,  Ahhh.” His name comes out like a hiss between a moan.  “Please…We can’t do this here,” I beg, unable to put a coherent sentence together.

His voice grates along my nipple, sending shock waves of pleasure straight to my groin, “Why, you can keep quiet can’t you?”

Then in a feat of strength that even the most experienced of men would marvel at, he holds my body up, propped against the wall and pulls his pants low enough to expose the length of his cock.   I have only the time to take a deep breath before his tip finds my opening and plunges into me, burying himself deep.   I bite my lip hard to keep from crying out and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.  Then he is gently pulling out with a groan that is more animalistic than human. 

“So warm,” he murmurs against my neck before plunging headlong into me again.  I make a small strangled sound as he slowly eases out again.  Then he kisses me and tastes the coppery mix of blood and wine and groans low into my mouth.  His strokes become sure and steady as he feeds from my mouth.  My blood thunders through my veins until it feels like my entire body is pulsing with passion.  Over my gasps and stifled moans I hear his voice, rough and seductive, but he isn’t speaking the common tongue anymore.  My nails rake up his back in my struggle to stay quiet.  The pleasure builds in my center and I am biting my lip again to keep from moaning too loudly as my eyes find the top of the balcony and the dark figure that stands hidden in the corner shadows, looking back.  His mouth finds my breast again and the shout of alarm turns into cry of pleasure as I am pulled back into the madness and lose all control.  His grasp tightens on my buttock as I writhe in his arms in excruciating ecstasy of his increasingly harder strokes.

“Oh Maker, Fenris,” and then I am drowning in a flood a blistering rapture unlike any climax I have ever experienced. 

His grip turns to steel and a harsh groan leaves his lips, his entire body shaking as he follows me over the edge, coating my inner walls with copious amounts of his seed.  I shatter around him again, crying out his name as I cling desperately to him.

I am still pressed firmly up between the cold wall and his hot panting body: I can feel his cock inside my fluttering walls as it softens. I moan as he pulls out slowly and then eases me down onto the table beside him, mindful of his armour and my daggers.  As he pulls his pants up into a walkable state I close my eyes, reliving the last few moments in my head.  My legs dangle and my head falls forward to rest on his chest.  Slowly, the euphoria diminishes and with a start I glance back up at that spot on the balcony. 

It’s empty.  My brow creases in confusion as I wonder if there was really anyone there at all.

“What is it?” he asks.

I shake my head, “Nothing.” And lean forward back on his chest.  His arms wrap around me, pulling my body into his and I sigh. 

Suddenly, his arms shift their position and he is picking me up again.  I give a “Hey!” in surprise and then I am hoisted over his shoulder and he is carrying me upstairs like a sack of meat to be enjoyed with the wine, my butt shinning like a moon for everyone to see. 

“What are you doing?” I snap, although it comes out more like a grunt.

He chuckles, “That was only the beginning.  And I intend on exploring every part of you before this night is through.”

I am thrown on the bed in a fit of giggles.  The robe lies somewhere on the ground having been stripped off me.  I lay naked amongst the pillows, having lost the embarrassment of being nude before him after being carried up the stairs with my ass right next to his face.  It is dark in my room, the only light coming from the flickering candles at the bedside and the dying flames of the fire place.  I can see him easily enough, but subtle nuances are lost in the growing shadows of the room. 

He is bending over, removing the sheathing of his legs, and then the leather pants all together.  The lyrium brands shimmer like silver along his skin, casting a gleam of their very own about the room.  I sigh, feeling the need to reach out and touch that skin again, to run my fingertips over them to trace the brands, and then it hits me…  _Wait…why can’t I…why didn’t I downstairs?  That’s what was missing,_ I realize with sudden clarity.

I frown and sit up.  “Why can’t I-” I start, unsure of how to phrase it with sounding…well, horrible.  Saved by the explanation he is able to read the direction of my thoughts instantly.

“I’ve been…experimenting.”

“Experimenting?” I ask, puzzled, trying to ignore the fact that I am still naked before him.

“On being able to block you out,” he says.

I look away and backup all the way onto the bed, feeling rejected without really having an excuse to.  I curl up into a position that covers most of my private bits.  He’s just protecting himself, I think, but I have a hard time blocking out the cynical voice in my head that says _, I told you so_.  “Oh,” I whisper, dejected.   I want to find the robe and pull it back on because I feel way more exposed now than I did a minute before.  The bed compresses under his weight until I see him out of the corner of my eye kneeling before my partially drawn up knees.

“Cassie,” he says, pulling my chin up to meet his eyes as his other hand caresses my leg.  “This is nothing against you.  But Danarius is coming.  I can be sure of that now.  Maybe not this week, this month or even this year but he will come and when he does I want to be able to protect myself from him.  Can you fault me for wanting that?”

Gazing up at him, his eyes are swimming with emotion.  It is rare to see him so overcome with anything other than anger.  He wants me, or needs me to understand this.  And I do.  Then why do I feel so…

“How did you figure it out?” I ask.

The hand the tilted my chin, caresses my cheek.  “You.  I figured it out in the Fade.  Or at least what was happening to a certain extent when we touched.”

I sigh and pull away.  “I can’t say I won’t miss it.”  Then I look up at him and give him a small smile that I know doesn’t reach my eyes.  “But I don’t fault you at all.”

He sits back on his heels and returns my smile.  “Good.”  Then slowly his expression changes to this wickedly gleeful smirk that makes my heart race.  “It doesn’t mean I won’t let you.”  And then he is crawling over me, breath hot against my now cooled skin.  His eyes are intensely focused on mine, making my pulse skyrocket and my skin become fevered.  It is deeply erotic, like he could fuck me with just his eyes as he slithers up my body like a predator claiming a possession.  My arms wrap around his sides when he reaches my face, sliding down his back and over the mounds of his ass, pulling his hips in-between my legs.  He growls into my mouth as his already erect member slides over my clit.  He bites my bottom lip as my back arches my hips up into him.

“After all,” he mumbles into my mouth, then nips his way down my neck, mouth so close to my skin that his breath has every part of me screaming for his kiss.  “I’ve imagined this…” his lips close over a nipple, making me gasp with the shock waves of pleasure that go straight to my groin, “for far too long,” and then he is going lower still, down my abdomen, “…to not do it.”  He lowers his mouth in between my legs as the throbbing escalates to match my pulse.  His tongue takes that first lick and my breath leaves me in something between a sigh and a moan.  I grab his head, grinding against his mouth as his licks become more enthusiastic.  Immediately his hands grip tightly around my wrists and pin them to my sides as he stares up to line of my body.  I cry out in frustration as his tongue moves faster and faster until my body feels like it is humming with electricity _.  Oh Maker I’m so close_ , and then suddenly his mouth is gone. 

I practically scream as the wave of euphoria eases off, leaving me painfully aroused and deprived of release.  

He rises to kneel back on his heels, licking his lips of my juices, “I told you, you are not in control.” 

Something more primal passes over his face as his eyes trail the length of my body that is stretched out underneath him.  As if it was possible more blood rushes to follow the path of his gaze until it reaches my groin and a deep throbbing starts to pulse with each beat of my heart.  His eyes meet mine again and it’s like he’s seeing straight to my soul, something inside me panics and for an instant I wonder if I give all of myself to him will that leave me with nothing in return?   He smiles and his gaze softens; he picks up my hands and interlaces my fingers with his own, somehow marvelling their intertwined appearance.  His gaze finds my own again and it’s as if he can read my mind because he says, “I will never leave you.  Not while there is still breath in this body.”

I stare at him, wanting so badly to believe, but I hold back.  Does he really mean that or is he just saying it to put me at ease.  Promises are easily made in the height of passion but not so easily kept after. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I mumble, voice betraying my wariness. 

His grip on our handholding tightens and he brings them next to my ears to lean over me.  “I don’t,” and there is something hard and concrete in the way he says it.   His face lowers down to nuzzle against my neck and bury in my hair.  “Vita mea,” he whispers, and it is followed by another string of Tevinter that I can’t follow.  The tone, however, I’ve heard before, in the halls of the Chantry, like a prayer he says it and I am about to ask him what he means when his lips crush against my own that I feel myself slip away.  

He kiss is powerful, possessive, and I feel myself surrendering to it, surrendering my soul to him.  His hands release mine and they begin to explore my body.  I lock my legs behind him, pulling his body fully against my own as my fingers begin their own exploration.  Everywhere we touch is hot almost to the point of burning, as if his skin is liquid fire, bleeding into me.  Then I realize what is happening.  He has lowered his defenses and the lyrium is leaking into me, turning every nerve ending on.  I gasp against his mouth as synapses misfire and my body trembles underneath him in a mild form of an orgasm.  My body thrusts against him in invitation.  Something harsher that a groan and more primal than a growl emerges from his throat and I can feel him, all of him, pressed firmly against me.  My hands travel up his stomach to his chest, wonderment at the feel of the brands beneath my fingertips.  He shudders, his eyes closing and then my world explodes as whatever barrier he had up against me is torn completely down and I can feel all of it crashing down on me, flowing into me like hot water shocking ice cold limbs.  I was wrong before, he controlled it before, now he has completely let it go.  My breath comes in a sharp moan, pain bordering on pleasure like little pinpricks throughout my body.  His body is rigid on top of mine, face contorted until I pull him down, and he collapses.  I kiss him, feeling the lyrium leave me in a gentler wave in every place where our bodies touch.  He moans against my lips and grinds into me, forcing my legs open even wider.  The magic leaves me completely and surprisingly I can still feel it in him as we kiss trying to find its way back to me, as our hands grope each other blindly.  It is strangely intimate, like a doorway to his soul.  Then it is flowing back like an invisible wave exciting and caressing inside until I am burning with desire. 

“Oh Maker, Fenris.  I need you in me now.” I mumble harshly against his lips.  He reaches down, pulling my hips up fully against him and I feel him slide along the slickness between my legs, making me whimper with need.  I push the lyrium out enjoying the rush as it leaves and he pauses on top of me.  His breathing is hard against my ear and he begins to whisper more threads of Tevene I don’t understand.  He reaches down following the length of my body until he comes between my legs rubbing his fingers up and down over my nub, making me writhe and moan.  Then thrusting his fingers inside, I gasp when the lyrium comes in short sharp bursts, filling me until I am almost bursting.  Every nerve of my body is alive as if it’s been electrocuted with a live wire.   I can’t take it anymore and try to reach down between us.  He effectively blocks this by dropping his hips once more into the one place I want him most, pushing against me as I feel all of him slide along the dampness of my desire.  We both shudder with need.

“Damn it Fenris.  Fuck me now,” I demand.  

He chuckles long and low in his throat.  “Patience is a virtue,” he mumbles against my ear.

“Not right now it’s not,” I reply sharply.

I feel his smirk against my ear which he then playfully bites.  _Arrogant bastard,_ I think _.  So that’s how it’s going to be.  We will see about that._

I wrap my legs around his hips, pinning his body against mine and push the lyrium back into him with such force that a groan is torn from his throat.  As the wave subsides he jerks upright and is off the bed before I can open my mouth.  For one frightening moment I think I have gone too far somehow until he grabs me by the hips and jerks my body to the end of the bed.  I feel the press of his tip against my entrance.  His gaze penetrates me, dark, hungry and unremorseful.  My heartbeat rises both in anticipation and the tiniest slice of fear. 

“You will pay for that,” he growls.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I tease.  At first I think I have raised his anger but then surprisingly he begins to laugh this deep throaty chuckle that I have never heard before.  It makes my eyes widen and my heart race.  I stare at him, dazzled by the effect a simple laugh can have on his features. 

 The laugh dies but the amusement, among darker needs, still sparkles in his eyes.  He grabs one of my legs, leaning it against his torso, caressing up and down the limb in long languorous movements.  “Oh I intend to keep this promise,” he mumbles against my ankle, the vibrations seeming to have a direct line to my groin.

I close my eyes, enjoying the sensations traveling through me.  Not only is there desire or the sexual tension which exists in large supply, but just the underlying current of a need being fulfilled on both ends.  His weight shifts over me and I feel the heat of his body pressed against me as he gets himself into a better position.

“Open your eyes,” he says.   

 I open them to find him with one leg propped up on the bed frame, staring at me with such intensity that I can do nothing but stare back. “I want to see all of you when I take you again,” he murmurs.

There is only a second of anticipation then he thrusts inside.  My head is thrown back, eyes automatically closing as a dull pain is mixed with pleasure that is just bordering on intolerable. 

“Look at me,” he demands. Shocked, I open my eyes and find myself fixed there, staring at him.  He pulls out slowly and pushes back in, making my back arch on the bed as my eyes flutter closed.  “Don’t close your eyes,” he says again.  “I want to see all of you.”

A momentary confusion at the insistence of this demand wars with my desire until it melts away with the rhythm of his thrusts, his gaze sinks into my own until all I see are his eyes, those green eyes penetrating into me.  With every thrust I am pulled deeper until I am drowning in a blaze of my own making.  I could burn forever and would welcome it as long as it was in his arms.  I am naked before him, vulnerable, my soul completely stripped of all of its protection.  All the walls I have built up against him, against anyone getting too close, are gone.  I realize now why he wants this.  He is claiming me.  More than my body, more than my desire, he wants it all, he wants my love.   Now I understand what he meant _.  I want to see all of you_. 

He leans forward, putting his weight on his arms, lower body propped on the edge of the bed, my hands automatically go to his face.  He stares into me, watching the play of emotions over my face. With every thrust another layer is stripped away until all that exists is this need, this unexplainable urge to give myself over to him completely.  A sudden surge of fear ices through me _.  I can’t, I can’t, I can’t give him all of me, I’ll have nothing left_.  Then he kisses me, his breath coming in small moans against my lips with every thrust.  But the logical part of me is fighting to be heard.  _Love is weakness_.  _Don’t give in_.  But my own body is fighting against my instinct, reacting to every caress, every touch, every thrust, a betrayal of the logic of my mind, my last ditch effort to protect myself against what will happen, what has already happened.  His effort is becoming panicked, faster and harder and then he breaks the kiss panting with the force of his exertion.  His eyes close and he whispers, “Semper mea.”  With that utterance such a flow of lyrium intoxicates me in an endless wave of power and pleasure that something within me reacts.  Some part deep down that until this moment I have only had glimpses of, awakens, like a leviathan waking from its slumber.  I feel myself slipping, on the edge of that glass pane as it tilts into oblivion.  His actions are frenzied, our bodies entwining as much as the magic that flows through us.   A voice inside whispers, _let go_.   The breath catches in my throat…then I fall to the sound of united cries of release. 

Pulses of power writhe in and out of us in our joined state.  I feel the energy swirling, entwining, and binding together.  Floating as I am, it is a long time before I am coherent enough to understand what is happening in that moment.  A longer time before I am willing to accept it.

Sometime later he lays next to me, idly stroking my bare stomach, staring at the fire, lost in some thought that I know nothing about.  When I touch his check, his eyes fall to me and sad smile forms on his lips before he takes my hand and kisses my fingertips.  His eyes find the fire again and are held there.

“I know you’re tired,” he says to me without moving his gaze, “Sleep.”

I stare at him for a moment more as something uneasy settles in the pit of my stomach.  What is he thinking about?  What has him so preoccupied?  I turn on my side, away from him and towards the fire.  His arm wraps around my side as he pulls himself closer to me.   This makes me relax a little but even as I close my eyes to the firelight all I can see is that lost gaze.  I feel him in me even now, the lyrium burned into his skin flowing like something alive through me, through us both.  He doesn’t speak again, and I think I will not be able to sleep with the snake that coils in my belly, but surprisingly enough I do.     

…

    The sheets are cold and empty.  My arm flails to the side searching.  What am I searching for… my mind is too foggy…then it comes back and I open my eyes.  I automatically glance next to me where the bed is empty and feel the lead weight drop to my stomach.  I hoped I was being paranoid but now I just can’t ignore.  I’ve fallen.  I’ve fallen so completely in love with him that it wrenches my heart with an unexplainable fear.  The room that is subtly lit with the light of a very early morning and I hear a scuffle near the fireplace and find Fenris standing there, completely dressed and armored.  I prop myself up on my elbow and he turns to me.  One look at him and an invisible vice twists tighter around my heart.  He is going to say something I desperately don’t want to hear.

“Was it that bad?” I ask, trying for light-heartedness and failing.

He looks away. “I’m sorry.  It’s not…It was fine.”  He turns away.  _Fine?  Fine?!?  Is he kidding?  That was…_ and I can’t even come up with the words to describe it _, and to him it’s just fine._ He turns back around to face me.  “No that is insufficient.  It was better than anything I could have dreamed.”  His eyes bore into mine, holding so much emotion that I feel myself falling into them all over again. 

“Your markings…they hurt, don’t they?” I ask, searching for the reason of this uneasiness he now displays. 

His eyes flick away briefly.  “No it’s not that.” He pauses, like he is searching for the right words.  _Here it comes_ , that cynical voice in my head says.  _Now he will crush you_.  “I started to remember.  My life before.  Just flashes…” This takes me by surprise as he begins to pace the floor.  “It’s too much.  This is too fast.  I cannot…do this.”

My mind whirls.  He can’t mean that.  What if we, “Your life before, what do you mean?”

He looks at me like he doesn’t want to be here anymore.  My throat constricts.  “I’ve never remembered anything from my life before the ritual.  But there were…faces.  Words.”  He scratches his head.  “For just a moment I could recall all of it.”  Anger is rising in his voice.  Anger and frustration.  “And then it slipped away.”

“Don’t you want to get your memories back?” I ask, confused and desperate.

He sighs and walks a few paces away.  “Perhaps you don’t realize how upsetting this is.  I’ve never remembered anything, and to have it all come back in a rush, only to lose it.”  His hands fall to his sides and he looks at the ground.  “I can’t.”  He shakes his head.  “I can’t.”

My hands grip the sheets until the flesh mottles around the knuckles.  I can feel it coming now and like the pathetic lovesick girl I am I make a desperate plea.  “We can work through this.”

He glances up at me then away with pity in his eyes.  “I’m sorry.  I feel like such a fool.”  He is looking anywhere but at me then utters the words that tear me in two.  “This should never have happened in the first place.”  It hurts, it hurts so much that I think I might collapse right there.  What happened to, _I will never leave you, not while there is still breath in this body._   A lie, it was all a lie.  He says something after and walks out without looking back but I don’t hear it.   All I can hear is him saying those words again and again like some sort of fucked up mantra.  _This should never have happened in the first place._  

My chest constricts and twists so hard I almost cry out.  This isn’t happening.  This isn’t really happening.  It is all just a dream and I will wake up and he will be lying asleep next to me.  But it’s not.  My mind refuses to believe such a ridiculous thought and a sob erupts from my throat. 

_No_.  I close my eyes and twist my fists into the sheets.  _No. No. No. No. NO! You are not going to cry over him again.  Stop it. Stop it. Stop it!_ I berate myself.  But I have nothing left.  I gave it all to him.  I gave him all of me.The tears flow faster and I get up and begin to pace the room, combing fingers through bedraggled hair.  The magic runs rampant through my body.  The magic he fully awoke.  The mage he made me into.  Damn him. Damn him!  My fist slams into my bureau and a bolt of electricity flies out of it.  I feel fear for only a moment then it is quickly followed by a deathly calm.  _No_ , I think.  _No more Fear_.  Something inside me hardens like cold unforgiving metal and I smile.  _He hates mages_ , I think.  _Then let me become what he hates the most_. 


	14. Broken Inside

A good portion of the late morning was spent whacking at the wooden targets in my yard until sweat soaked my skin and clothes, my anger still nowhere near to being sated.  My body fatigues much faster than my rage as I give up and towel off the sweat.  I wear my normal attire with exception of the red sash that loops in the top of my leggings which I couldn’t find this morning.  Standing on the balcony that looks over the main courtyard, I watch the people bustle to and fro in the mid-day sun, some looking up and smiling, others completely oblivious.  This is one of the best things about this new home.  Someplace I can watch, uninterrupted by the world around me, as the people go about their daily lives.  I watch them for some time, leaning forward on the railing and staring out, thinking. 

The time has come that I embrace my magic.  I feel it now, like a distant thrum inside me, beating against the barrier of my flesh.  Closing my eyes and focusing on it, I feel it coalesce in my fingertips, flowing like a rapid river to the waterfall of its outlet.  Sparks jump from my fingertips causing me to open my eyes and smile.  I can control this.  I _will_ control this.  No more fear.

Balling my hand into a fist, I look back out, instantly spotting the white hair and domineering gait of the elf.  I am staring at him, hatred and betrayal poisoning me like venomous vipers in my heart.  Father was right but he was also wrong.  Love is weakness, but it is not our greatest strength, and I will crush it like the worm it has become.  It’s as if he feels my eyes following him because his gaze is drawn up to the balcony and me, then as if it causes him some sort of unseen pain, he looks away again, continuing to Maker only knows where.  _I hate you_ , I think.  _If Danarius was to come to Kirkwall now, I would gladly hand you to him._   Making an ugly sound in the back of my throat, I go back into the house. 

I run into Orana, who is in my bedroom, busy tidying.  Part of me wants to chastise her for picking up after me, but I don’t have the heart for it.  When she sees me, she smiles warmly and seems genuinely happy.  I muster a half-hearted smile in return.  I am too angry and hurt to give much more.  Her expression falters slightly and then her head tilts to the side in contemplation. “Are you…alright, mistress?” she asks hesitantly. 

I nod and intend to say something about the whole mistress bit but then decide to just let it go.  If she is anything like Bohdan, she will most likely persist in calling me this anyway, much to my chagrin. “Sure.” I say, but even to my ears this simple word sounds false.

Her brows knit together and her lips thin into a line of frustration.  “Fenris?” she asks.   I jerk involuntarily at his name and her correct assumption.  My hands squeeze into tight fists as I feel the rage boil inside me.  Her face changes to become slightly alarmed and I have to physically remind myself to calm down.  I take a deep breath, count to five, and slowly let it out.  I do this about five or six times and finally I am under control.

“Gone,” I say, and hate the pain that resonates in my voice.  She sighs with agitation, causing me to look at her curiously.  “It was you, wasn’t it?  That I saw last night?”   Her cheeks flush with embarrassment and her eyes avoid my own. 

“Yes,” she says so quietly that it’s barely audible.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean…” and I wave away her explanation.

“It’s alright, Orana.  I’m not angry,” I tell her.  She relaxes, visibly relieved then her expression hardens again and she is…angry?  This display of emotion throws me, especially from her, and I am about to open my mouth to ask her when she blurts out, “He is such a coward.”

I stare at her, confused by the remark.  “Coward?”

She seems to gather herself then and reddens again.  “Sorry mistress.  I meant no disrespect.”

I laugh, because I can’t help it.  “Don’t be sorry.  I hardly know what to feel anymore.” I make my way to the bed, sobering with the hollowness that now exists in my heart.  When I sit down a puff of air wafts up from the bed, filling my nose with his scent, the pain is instantaneous and I am forced to close my eyes for just a moment. “I won’t take offence,” I continue in a much more solemn voice, “since my choice of sexual partners is sorely misguided.”

She huffs and looks away, placing a discarded piece of clothing on the table.  She comes over to lean against one of the banisters that surrounds my bed, wrapping her arms around it and looks at me.  “Can I ask you a question?” she says shyly.  I nod.  “Are you a mage?”

The question takes me completely by surprise since I assumed it would be about Fenris.  “Um…yes…in a manner of speaking.”

“Is there another manner of speaking that I am unaware of?” she asks.

I smile half-heartedly and look down at the floor, leaning forward on my knees.  “I suppose not,” I say in reply, realizing she doesn’t understand metaphors.  “And to be straight forward, yes, I am.  Although, it’s taken me many years to...accept.”  I can feel it then, as if speaking about it brought it forth again, the tickle of magic at my fingertips. 

“But your scar,” she says, and I already know the direction of her thoughts.

“You’re wondering why I’m not Tranquil.” I ask glancing over at her.  She nods.  I look down at the floor again and sigh.  “I’m not exactly sure.  I know only that my father performed the Rite years ago; I never lost my… self, just the magic, but for one reason or another, my magic has returned now.”

“Your father,” she gasps, horror evident in her voice.

I shrug, not because the issue isn’t abhorrent to me, or that I am still so angry at my father.  It’s more that I truly don’t understand what could have been going through his head at the time, and maybe I don’t want to.  But it is difficult to overlook his behaviour towards me when I got older.  There was so much love there, and this need to protect me for all of my life.  There must have been a reason, a very significant reason.  Shaking my head at my own thoughts, I sigh in defeat.

“There must have been a fairly important reason for a mage to make his own daughter Tranquil,” she says, echoing my thoughts.

“Yes, I suppose there was.” I reply hollowly, still staring at the floor.

“Did he never tell you?” she asks.

“No,” and even as I say it I think about the diary that is probably still sitting on the mantel in the library where I left it a few weeks before.  Then I bite my lip in thought.  It would most likely be in there.  And if I am truly to come to terms with the past, I must read it.   

“I am sorry about Fenris,” she says after a few silent moments.  I scowl at the floor, bitterness making its reappearance but say nothing.  I don’t want to talk about him.  It hurts too much.    I hope she will drop the subject  but she continues, “I understand why he did, though.”

My head whips in her direction, “What is that supposed to mean,” I snap.  She cringes at the harshness of my words and takes a wary step backwards.

I take a slow deep breath and calm my features if not my temper.  “Please Orana,” I say slowly, although the sharp edge of my words is still evident, “tell me why you said that.”

She eyes me for a few moments then seems to decide.  “Fenris did not know me, but I knew him,” she pauses then corrects herself, “or knew of him.  He was Danarius’ pet and his protection.  He’s more than just muscle.  His markings, his abilities are…a sort of doorway to the Fade that can be opened and closed at will, or can be in the right hands.”

She pauses while I process this.  Almost without thought my mind pulls up the mingling of spirit that I am sure I felt last night.  Right on the tail end of this comes the pain and the fury of betrayal.  Tears prick my eyes, and I tighten my fists until my nails leave deep half-moon indentations in my palm.  It feels so real as if his fist is in my chest again, squeezing until I think my sanity will break.  I hold onto that anger to keep from losing myself entirely and slowly the world comes back into focus.     “That’s why...” and my voice cracks with sudden dryness.

“That’s why a part of you probably feels at home with him, I think,” she says and smiles at me wistfully.  I can’t smile back.  “It’s also why he most likely will never leave you.”

“But he did leave,” I say hoarsely, the pain so evident that I wish I had just stayed quiet, “just as he left Danarius.”

She shakes her head, “You don’t understand.”

I frown.  “Then by all means, defend him.”

Orana grows quiet for a while after this, perhaps remembering some past pain, I don’t know.  But she doesn’t leave so I continue to give her my full attention.  She sighs loudly, as if deciding something, then continues. “Danarius was…”  She shudders visibly, “He was powerful, so powerful and frightening.  Terrifying.  He would torture people for the sheer joy it brought him.  I was bound to Hadriana, and am thankful for that small blessing.”  I feel the blood drain from my face.  To be thankful to be a slave to that psychotic bitch...Maker.

“You don’t know what he endured at the hands at Danarius.”

“You mean aside from having his memory wiped clean,” I say, spitefully, unwilling to let any kind of sympathy take root.

She shakes her head, and by the frightened look on her face I find myself reluctantly curious yet stubbornly silent.  However she decides to tell me anyway.  “You don’t know the things he would do.  How he tortured him.  And you have to realize Fenris knew _nothing else_.  He believed this was the way all slaves were treated.  He never knew happiness, contentment, joy...anything worth living for.  Or if he has, it was so short lived or twisted with so many other emotions he may not have even known at the time what it was.”  She pauses and takes a breath, seeming to collect herself.  “Fenris was a well-known marvel among the magisters, and Danarius took great joys in flaunting him about, showing off his abilities.”  Her face suddenly twists in disgust, and for a moment I am taken aback, making me see the depth of what even she has endured. “He was requested for many times as evening entertainment among the more...perverse mages, but Danarius turned them all down always stating, ‘his pleasure is mine and mine alone.’”  She shivered visibly.  “The only reason I know that is because Danarius had it repeated back to him mockingly many times after Fenris’ escape.”

“Was it so much worse than how you were treated?” I ask, and then realize how intrusive that must sound.  “I’m sorry.  You don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s ok,” she replies.  “Hadriana was murderous, viscous and abusive, but even I had much more freedom than Fenris, who was always by his master’s side, despite any tortures he might have endured.  I managed to find love,” her face brightens in remembrance then slowly grows sombre, “but I will not see him again for a very long time.”

“Who is he?” I ask, my mood brightening expectantly.  “Maybe we can find him somehow.”

She shakes her head and looks away out my window.  “I will not see him again until I shed this mortal coil.”  Her eyes tear and she looks down at the ground.  “He was killed by Danarius inadvertently in some blood magic ritual.

My stomach twists.  “Maker.  Are all mages in Tevinter like them?” I ask, trying to imagine walking into that nest of vipers. 

She shrugs, “I don’t know.  Slaves aren’t exactly allowed out that much.”

“How do you know all of this about him?” I ask.

She glances sideways at me and a sly smile forms on her lips.  “Servants talk, Mistress.  And my father knew him much better than I did.  His escape was a much gossiped thing.”

I am silent for a while after that, my mind travelling down so many threads of thought that Orana goes about her business tidying my room and the adjoining wash room.  Then it occurs to me that she never actually answered my original question.  “Orana,” I call.  “Why do you think he will never leave?  I mean, Danarius continues to pursue him, poisoning his mind even being as far away as he is.”  I pause, trying to hide the sour look that now vies for dominance on my face.  Closing my eyes only for an instant, I give up and all the resentment, contempt, and fury of the last twenty four hours reflects in my demeanour.  “He hates mages.” I hiss spitefully.   “He said what we did was a mistake.  A mistake!” I shout the last, as the traitorous tears spill from my eyes.  I grind my teeth and a wave of righteous anger quickly rises to replace my sorrow.

She watches me for a few heartbeats from the doorway, her eyes empathetic and sad.  “There was a reason I was chosen to make the trip to find Fenris,” she says and pauses.  I stare at her completely at a loss of where she is going with this.  “No servant they have ever brought into their household is simply… normal.  All of us were sympathetic in some way to magic.  I was brought because I have something of a sixth sense to lyrium.  I can…” her lips purse in thought and she glances at the floor, “ _feel_ it in people.”  And then she looks back up.  The way she says _feel_ sounds like a question more than a statement, as if this is not the best word to describe it.  “My father could too, but not to my degree.  Fenris, as you could imagine, resonates at a much different pitch than most because of the amount he carries, I suppose.  And when he activated it, I could feel it light up in my mind like a beacon.  It is much harder to determine with the increase in distance but, say within a city, he stands out.”  At this she looks away and mutters to herself.  “You complicated matters though.”

I adjust myself on the bed, folding my legs and regard her peculiarly.  “How so?”

Her lips form a frown and she shifts uncomfortably on her feet.  “You changed his pitch.  Changed it so dramatically that I wasn’t sure what happened.  I thought perhaps he had died, since I could no longer find him in the city.  Hadriana didn’t believe me.”

“I…what?”

She looks at me as if she is trying to figure me out. “You changed his pitch…sometime just before we arrived on the outskirts of Kirkwall, and then again last night.”

At this point I am completely flabbergasted at what this has to do with the original question.  “What do you mean changed his pitch?  What does this have to do with him not leaving?”

Her head cocks to the side, resembling my mabari almost perfectly when I do something particularly curious.  “It’s kind of like listening to a melody,” she explains.  “Most mages give off similar melodies.  I don’t know if it has something to do with the lyrium or perhaps their connections to the Fade or what it is.  Fenris was much different until a few weeks ago when it changed dramatically.  Hadriana would have found him sooner, been able to pinpoint his exact location but I couldn’t locate him.  I realize now it had changed to blend with yours.  At the time Hadriana thought I was lying and so she had my father used in their blood magic ritual as a means to _persuade me_.”  Her eyes darken and she looks far away. 

A small stab of guilt surges through me at this.  But it isn’t my fault.  I know that.  She knows that.  But somehow I still feel partially responsible. “I’m sorry,” I mumble.

She focuses on me and looks rather astounded at my words.  “Sorry?  For Hadriana’s actions?”  she shakes her head.  “No mistress.  She has answered the price for that.”   

 I am silent for a few moments, trying to collect my thoughts.  “So, I changed it,” I say, repeating her in disbelief.

She nods, “After last night, it now blends with your own so perfectly that I can no longer tell the two of you apart.  You…purified it,” she says, almost reverently.  “I didn’t realize that what Danarius did to Fenris, he probably did on purpose to be able to locate him and probably cause him great pain when needed.  Fenris now will be almost impossible to pinpoint because you changed it to blend with yours.”

I shake my head.  “But then it will just be a matter of finding me or him then,” I say.  “That’s not so difficult.  And I am sure Danarius has some idea what happened.”

She nods in acquiescence but then states, “That would be true but you…” and she reaches out a hand and closes her eyes, “manipulate yours somehow so it is constantly changing minutely to blend with the world around you.  And his pitch responds to yours as if answering a call.  You are practically impossible to track. At least in the means I am accustomed to.  It will be hard for Danarius as well.”

“Well, Fenris will be pleased to hear that.” I say bitterly and glare at the filthy, dark fireplace.

“He won’t leave you,” she whispers quietly. I look up at her and stare. “His lyrium and connection to the Fade are so blended with your own that he won’t want to.”

“So I’ve… _enslaved_ him?” I respond, horrified.

She shakes her head.  “That’s not what I mean.  Last night I saw what you two mean to each other.”

I snort in derision at this and look away, doing my best to ignore the hole that throbs like a second heart beat in my chest.  “Really?  All I saw was regret.” 

“That is not what I mean,” she states again more firmly.  “You were naturally drawn together before because of what his nature is.  But now your abilities have coalesced, providing strength for one what the other lacks.  I can feel it.  His essence hums about you just as yours clings to him.  I really didn’t know it was possible,” and her voice trails off.  “Perhaps it was what Danarius originally intended Fenris for but could never manage.  I don’t know,” she adds in an almost half-whisper. 

My gaze shifts back to the floor as I wonder how I will ever stand being around him.  I already feel like I am gasping for air that won’t come, grasping for threads that fray in my hands as my entire body tingles with awareness, feeling shocked and alive for the first time.  How will I ever survive this…delirium?    Dimly I remember a conversation with Anders.

_“But sometimes you wanted to, just to know that you could, just to get lost, however momentary, in that delirium, that mind consuming sickness that is love.  You would welcome the opportunity to have your heart ripped out just to remember that you could.”  He laughed and shook his head.  “I must sound like a fool to you.”_

_“No,” I whispered. “Not at all.”_

I just never imagined how momentary it would be.  I never thought love could twist so painfully until it almost felt as if my heart was being ripped out and yet the pain doesn’t stop. 

“LEANDRA!” comes the yell from down stairs, nearly making us both jump in alarm.  I hear my uncle start to accost Sandal who soon begins to wail incoherently.  Scowling, I tighten my robe and head down to the living room 

 “Leandra!  Where is she?”  he shouts at Sandal who now looks ready to throw a rune at him.  Remembering our trip to the Deep Roads and the monstrous ogre that was frozen on the spot, I am half tempted to wait to see if the same thing happens.  Then think about my mother’s face coming home to find her brother frozen in her living room.  Probably not a good idea.

“Uncle, he can’t talk,” I say testily.

When he catches sight of me his anxiety seems to lessen somewhat making my heart jump, he is really worried about something.  “Where is your mother?  We were supposed to meet this morning and she never came.”

I frown.  “I don’t know,” I say quizzically, trying to recall the last time I’ve seen her.   “I haven’t seen her since…” and my voice trails off.  Bohdan comes into the room and I immediately ask him.  “Bohdan, when was the last time you saw my mother?”

“Yesterday Messere, while you were still out.  She got a note with the lilies that came yesterday.”

_The white lilies_ …Then, like a warhammer to the temple it hits me.  The blood completely drains from my face and nausea turns my stomach.  Emeric murdered by shades, Gascard, the woman.  But Gascard wasn’t the killer, I am positive on that count, which means he must still be out there.

“Oh no,” I mumble and run to get my things and get out of the house.  I need to find Gascard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is literally the last of the pre-written chapters. You will need to be patient with the next ones. Sorry. And please keep motivating me. You guys keep me writing. Until next time...


	15. Mad World

Running up to the Hightown mansion that belonged to Gascard, I pass Aveline who is heading out on patrol.  “Hawke where are-“  I turn with her words,” and it must be the look on my face because even as I run from her she begins to chase after me immediately yelling, “What’s happened?”

“My mother,” I gasp out, sprinting towards the stairs that lead to where the nobility live.  “She’s missing.  She’s gone.”

Aveline is pursuing me but has a hard time keeping up in her armor.  “Hawke, slow down!” she shouts.

“I can’t, I can’t.” I pant, half crazed in panic.  “I have to find Gascard.  I have to find my mother.”  _Oh maker, the lilies.  Please let her be ok._

Gascard’s mansion is just ahead, without stopping I slam open the front door, yelling like a lunatic for the mage.  “Gascard!  Gascard!  Where are you?”

No one answers.  I rush through every room, sprint up every stairway, yelling his name only to have silence answer me.  With every lack of response my anxiety increases to the point I am completely unaware of anyone around me other than the one person I can’t seem to find.  Upon finding another empty room I turn around only to crash headlong into Aveline, who has been watching this frantic search with growing agitation.  She grabs my shoulders, making me come to a stop suddenly, forcing me to make eye contact. 

“Hawke what is going on?” she asks with exasperation.

“I have to find my mother.  I have to find Gascard.”  I pull out of her grip and run back to the front door, not sure where to run next.  I come to a sudden stop outside the house, anxiety making my hands shake as my entire body urges me to run _.  Where do I go?  Where do I go?_ I wonder, each thought more panic filled than the last. 

“Why are you looking for Gascard?” Aveline asks.

I turn around to face her, my hands wringing unconsciously as my heart beats like a drum in my chest.  “The lilies.  The finger we found.  They have my mother.”

She looks at me with a look of confusion.  Then I watch as my incoherent mumblings click into place.  The color drains from her face and she grabs my forearm.  “I think I know where he is.  I’ve been keeping an eye on him since you let him go just to be sure.  Last I heard he was in Darktown.” 

A small measure of relief floods through me and a relieved smile lights my face before I take off.  “Wait,” she yells after me, “we need more people than just the two of us.”

“No time,” I shout back.

“Damn it, Hawke, don’t be reckless!”

 But I don’t heed her words; I just keep sprinting as fast as my legs will carry me through the streets of Kirkwall.  _I have to find her.  She is all I have left._   The people in the streets are just blurs and I’ve stopped paying attention to the shouts that trail after me.  My mind is focused solely on one thing.  I must find Gascard. 

After what seems like an eternity, I enter the dank streets of Darktown as the lift slowly begins to rise again behind me.  I head in the direction of Anders’ clinic, running at a more sedate pace, so I can study the faces I pass.  My body, exhausted after my sprint from Hightown, still thrums with the need to go faster making it a constant struggle since my mind wants to do the same as well, although logically I know this makes no sense.  I see the light in Anders’ clinic far up ahead and someone in fine robes entering.  _Is that Gascard?_

I take off towards the clinic, abandoning any source of logic and push through the doors seconds later to meet the startled glances of many patients.  Anders is so lost in concentration on healing one of the patients that he doesn’t pay attention to my hasty entrance.  He finishes and slumps in exhaustion, leaning heavily on his staff.  He looks up to meet my frantic eyes and whatever he sees there alarms him. 

“Gascard,” I say around a long breath, “Where is he?”

His face shifts to one of curiosity.  “I saw him not a few hours ago not to far from here.  Why? What’s wrong?”

“My mother.  The lilies.  She’s missing.”

“Oh Maker,” Anders says, making the connection almost immediately.  He starts to gather a few things, calling out to a woman to take care of the rest of the patients until he returns. 

“Yes Anders,” she answers.  I stare for a moment at this unknown woman, who is startlingly beautiful in a wild somewhat unkempt way.  Her hair is silver, not gray or white but silver, and she has the lithe pleasing form of an elf.  Her ears are covered so I cannot be sure but she stares after him as he walks towards me.   When the former warden is almost at my side her eyes shift to mine and her face twists in scorn.  I frown, turn away and begin a brisk pace out the door, unwilling to spare a thought about who she is. 

“You remember where you saw him?” I ask.  He nods. 

As if by fate, we run into Sebastian and Aveline who are just coming down the stairs as we are running past.  Without much talk, other than a few muffled curses, they begin to follow.   

Aveline spots him first, “Hawke, over there, look.”

I turn in the direction she is pointing, letting out a strangled cry in relief when I spot him. 

“Gascard,” I call.  He whirls around in distress but calms to a wary stillness when he sees me.

“Hawke,” he says.

 “I need to find the killer.  He has my mother.”

His head tilts to one side in contemplation of something, watching my display of aggravation as I practically hop from foot to foot with the need to find my mother, then seeming to decide walks over to an entrance to the sewers.

“Why is it always the sewers, “Sebastian grumbles.

“Are you afraid of mucking up that pretty white armor of yours?” Anders remarks sarcastically.

“Enough you two,” I say.  I look at Gascard expectantly.

“It will require blood magic to find her,” Gascard says.

“Fine, just get on with it,” I snap, nearly ready to run him through if he takes any longer.  Sebastian says something incoherent under his breath but I already know enough that he will disapprove of my actions.

Gascard pulls out a knife and cuts into his palm.  I stagger with the energy that is suddenly flowing through him and the space around him.  It’s as if I could reach out and put my fingers through it, much like the flowing water of a stream.  This does not feel malicious though, but immediately I can tell he is hiding something, something rather important.  As he performs, I fall back and whisper in Anders’ ear.

“Can you feel the dishonesty?” I ask.

He glances over at me curiously.  “No.  Can you?”

My brow furrows and I become quiet.  Aveline moves in behind me.  “What is it?” she whispers.  I shake my head, “Something isn’t right.  Or at least not completely truthful.”  Aveline seems to take this at face value which surprises me.  Nodding, she moves back and whispers something to Sebastian, who then nods also.  They seem to be more accepting of my emerging powers than I am myself.  I shake my head, something to be analysed later.

A bright light flares then quickly disappears.  He stares ahead though as if he can still see something, smiling slightly to himself.  “Your mother is this way,” he states, pointing down the sewers.  My teeth clench but I nod in acquiescence. 

“Let’s go.”

...

We run through the twisted pathways, following behind Gascard.  I recognize none of this until we emerge right in front of the Foundry that we found the finger of that cheating wife at so many years ago.  I pull my daggers out and nearly decapitate him, pulling the blade back just before I do.  The others climb out of the sewers behind me.  The blood mage’s eyes are wide but he is not afraid.  “She isn’t here,” I hiss.  We scoured this place years ago.  There’s nothing more here.”

His eyebrows lift indignantly.  “This is where the path leads none the less,” he replies coldly.

A part of me whispers to just take that last step and end this man’s life.  I would feel better and we could always find another way.  There must be someone somewhere that knows.

“Hawke,” Aveline says with a thread of warning.  “What are you doing?”

I frown, her interruption clearing my head and I drop the daggers.  Gascard lets out a breath of relief.  “He is this way,” and turns quickly, running up the stairs of the Foundry.  I am getting the same sensation that something isn’t right and my anxiety rises yet another notch.  My blood hums with adrenaline as I climb those stairs and enter through the door.  The Foundry looks much the same until I spot a fresh patch of blood on the ground. 

“Oh Maker,” I pray and sprint up the stairs after Gascard.  He is stooping on the floor in the room at the top of the stairs and I am about to shout at him until he whispers something inarticulate and a seamless door rises from the floor. 

Sebastian starts in surprise.  “Wow that was indistinguishable.” 

“That explains why we didn’t see it before,” Anders’ mumbles.

I am cursing at myself silently.  If I had been more perceptive would I have noticed this door before?  Would all of those lives have been saved?  _She will be ok.  I won’t lose her too._ My grip on my daggers tightens until my fists begin to throb as I try to quell the shaking that has begun again in my hands.  _You will find her.  You will find her._

 With each turn reveals some new horror.  A scribbled note.  The remains of a woman dissected apart.  Journal entries accounting some new demented experiment.  My stomach is in knots as I follow the signs, praying with a vain hope that by some miracle I’ve come in time.  There is so much blood, stray body parts decaying or being devoured by rats.  Then I find my mother’s wedding ring and my heart stops beating in my chest. 

“Mother,” the word comes out in a croak.  I run down the hall and through the room and stop dead at the large portrait hanging on a dilapidated wall.  There she is...staring back at me out of the painting.  “What is this?”  I ask, my voice quavering with fear.

“Maker preserve us,” Sebastian groans.

My arms are shaking, a combination of the strain from my hands and the horror in my heart.  But as I look at the picture I begin to notice small differences.  The curve of the eyebrow, the slant of the jaw, and the shade of hair are all off by miniscule amounts.  Something I probably wouldn’t have noticed if I wasn’t her daughter.  “It’s not her,” I mumble, “Who is this woman?”

“That woman in the portrait looks exactly like Leandra, doesn’t she?” asks Aveline.

“A shrine dedicated to a wife, a sister?” suggests Anders, shrugging.

“We need to find her _, now_ ,” I say harshly and turn away, unwilling to look at that portrait any longer.  Walking past Gascard who remains, regarding the picture with a touch of derision _.  It must be why she is down here_ , I think.   _Maybe she is ok._   But every instinct inside me says otherwise. 

As we run through the door on the other side of the room I see two figures on the opposite end.  A peculiar sensation flows over me, cold as the grave.  I shiver even as the sweat trickles down my face.  The closer I get the worse it becomes and I stop when the man looks up and spots us.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.  Leandra was so sure you’d come for her.”  He looks down at the figure sitting before him smiling fondly.  My heart lifts, _she is alive. Oh thank the Maker.  I’ve made it.  She isn’t dead._ I can breathe easier for the first time since sprinting out of my house. 

“Mother?” I ask, and the figure in the chair jerks sharply.

“Quentin!” Gascard yells.

The other man seems to notice the blood mage for the first time.  “Gascard,” he says with surprise.  “So you’ve finally reached me after all these years.  I figured you gave up.”

 “Are you afraid?” I ask snidely. “Did you think he would forget what you’ve done?”

At this Quentin seems to be truly amused.  “Afraid?  Of Gascard?” and then he begins to laugh. “Ahh, Gascard respects me too much to kill me.”

“Shut up, I am going to learn your secrets old man,” the blood mage says disdainfully.  “Everything you kept from me.”

Then it dawns on me.  Gascard was his apprentice.  “I’ll kill you for this deception,” I hiss.

“I didn’t deceive you totally.  The plan was always to kill Quentin.  But we can still work together.  Once he is dead you can have your mother back,” he explains.  “And his research and writings will be mine.”

“I am sorry Gascard,” says Quentin.  “When my wife died I lost all hope.  I wasn’t able to be the mentor you deserved.”  He turns and walks back to the table, head bowed to the floor as if he is actually regretful.  But then he looks back up, staring at some far off point.  “But now my work is finished.” He says triumphantly and turns back around to face us.  “And I can teach you as I’ve always meant to.  Come back to me Gascard,” he pleads.

“You’d let me be part of this?  You’d teach me the secrets of necromancy?” he asks almost reverently.

_Necromancy_ , and my blood turns cold.  _What exactly-_ then my mother stands up and I feel the blood drain from my face.

My mother.

But she doesn’t look right.  She doesn’t look...  My brain doesn’t seem to want to make sense of what my eyes see.  What is wrong with her?  The more I stare at her the more the pieces start to fall into place.  _Oh Maker, deliver me._ My daggers fall from numb fingers, thumping on the ground noiselessly.  _What has he done?  What is wrong with her?_ _She doesn’t even look alive._ And then everything clicks and I hear myself cry out.  A single short strangled scream filled with horror and disbelief.

_Oh Maker, no._   It takes me a second to realize I have said these words out loud.  Because now they all look at me.  Quentin carries on rambling about his achievement with such arrogance that I feel the horror twist to hate. 

My breathing becomes strained and the tension in my chest rises.  Fury rises like a tidal wave and it feels so good.  I bend down slowly and pick up my daggers, staring at this mage who continues to have the audacity to smile at me _.  I am going to carve that smile off your face, make you pray for a death that will never come._ The magic comes in a rush starting from my chest and flowing to the tips of my fingers, filling me up until my entire body resonates with power.  I welcome it; welcome the rage, the hate, and the vengeance that burns my blood.

I say something to Gascard but I don’t remember what and for some reason or another when the fighting breaks out, he is on our side.  Demons and shades spring out of the floor and I am a fighting with mindless ease, giving an outlet to the monster growing within.  When I take down Quentin I continue hacking and slashing at his corpse until Aveline and Anders haul me off the body.  I am screaming in unanswered agony until finally I stop struggling against their arms, the rage washing away as a new wave of despair takes its place.

Now, somehow the atrocity that is my mother stumbles towards me.  Alive but not alive.  Dead but not dead.  This is the stuff of nightmares, not real life.  It shouldn’t be possible to cut someone’s head off and have them still be alive.  _Oh Maker deliver me._ Are all mages this fucked up?  Have I been helping set them free just so they could do things like this?  Did that group of mages I set free three years ago follow in their leader’s path?  Are they now blood mages too?   Can I not trust my own judgment anymore _? Stop it. It’s too late.  There’s no turning back now.  If I look back I am lost._

My mother falls and, instinctively, I reach out to grab her.  The skin is cold and clammy to the touch.  A slick sheen of Maker only knows what glistening on her skin.  Revulsion forces bile up my throat that I just manage to keep down.  She stares up at me and even as I watch, her eyes are losing focus, the body she carries giving up.  There are some miracles at least. 

“Cassie, promise me something?” she asks through shattered breathing.  “Stop fighting yourself.”  I nod, confused but unable to deny her anything.  “Good,” she says around a sigh and smiles wanly.  Tears start cool tracks down my cheeks and her features become clouded.  “Don’t feel remorse for me.  I have already survived the worst.  I only regret I will leave you alone.” Her breathing becomes ragged from saying so much and I can tell she is struggling even now to keep going.

I shake my head.  “It’s ok.  I’ll be fine.”

She stares at me for a long moment, but it’s as if she’s not really seeing what’s just before her. “My little girl all grown up,” she says around a rasping breath, “How strong you’ve become.”  The tears fall from my eyes more heavily.  Her hand rises to brush them away.  “Your father was wrong…you are ready...  but the world…will never be.”  She looks up at the ceiling, takes a deep shuddering breath, exhales and doesn’t breathe again.

“Mother?”  I shake her and her head lulls to the side, her eyes gone vacant.  My chin quivers with the sobs that I will not let go.  _Not again.  Not again._

_You have failed again_ , a voice says to me.  _Look what you have done._   _Look at what has happened because of you._  

I shake my head mutely.  “No, there is nothing I could have done _.”_

_Isn’t there?  Perhaps if you had paid attention to your mother once in awhile. Perhaps if you had just spoken to her._

My blood goes cold.  I start shaking my head rapidly from side to side, curling my torso down to my knees, my hands going over my ears to block the voice out.  “Not my fault.  Not my fault,” I mutter insanely through quiet sobs.  “Not my fault.”

_They died because of you.  By your hands._   _How many more will you fail?  How many more will you murder?_  

“I am not a murderer.  Everyone I killed I had to.  I am just trying to survive,” I explain weakly.

“Hawke,” I hear someone say, “Who are you talking to?”

_And what have you become in the process.  Your sister dead.  Your mother dead.  Your family dead. What kind of mage are you becoming? t_ he voice asks.

“NOT MY FAULT!” I scream.  But the words have already stung me.  What kind of mage am I becoming?  Is this why father attempted to make me Tranquil?  Is this my fate?  To destroy everything I hold dear _._

“If I look back I am lost,” I mutter to myself.

Voices echo around and I raise my head, but my vision is going in waves, everything taking on a distorted view, as if I am looking through water.

“Hawke!  Look at me Hawke!”  someone shouts.  The figure is front of me is undulating, darkening in the diminishing light. 

“My fault.  All my fault.” I start to cry quietly, “Unclean.  So unclean.”

“Hawke! Damn it!  Snap out of it!” the voice is anxious, and more than concerned.  

_The time has come for you to be reborn.  You will be the spark.  You will ignite the fire.  And everything will burn._

Visions erupt in my mind, the city burning, people fleeing and dying, demons everywhere.  I scream.  A voice, louder than the others, reverberates in my head, in my soul.  _SHE IS MINE!_   A sharp pain erupts in the back of my skull and I fall into darkness.

…

_“Wake up.  Wake up little one.  It is time to wake up.”_

_A little girl opens her eyes to the bright sunshine to find her father standing over her.  “Daddy,” she squeals in delight, her black curls frayed from sleep._

_“Hello baby,” he greets her.  “Did you sleep well?”_

_The little girl’s face changes and becomes frightened, “I had scary dreams daddy.  Voices keep talking to me.  They…They…” and her small brow furrows in frustration.  “I hear them but I don’t see them.  Why can’t I see them?”_

_Her father’s expression becomes clouded and suddenly very serious._

_“What do they say?”_

_“I don’t know. They just…talk.”_

_“Do you listen?” he asks._

_“Sometimes.  Sometimes they ask questions; sometimes they ask me to do things. But mainly they just talk to me.”_

_“What kind of questions?”_

_The little girl becomes uncomfortable under so much scrutiny.  “Daddy, I don’t want to talk about this anymore.  Don’t make me talk about it.”_

_He takes her up in his arms then and hugs her.  “Ok Cassie.  Ok.”  But that worried expression never leaves his face._

The scene dissipates and a fog obscures everything.  I strike out and hit something soft. But the fog is so thick I can barely see the hand in front of my face.  What is happening?  _Mother of Dreams, Mother of Dreams_ , the voices whisper, “ _what will you bring_?”  I cower in the shapeless fog as the voices coalesce about me.  I can feel them, like a stirring in my spirit, reaching out to claim me. 

My eyes try to adjust, squinting and straining to see anything, while my ears pick up every sound, my nose detecting the familiar scent of elfroot and spindleweed and my skin prickles with goosebumps, adjusting for the lack of one sense. Then it speaks to me, the voice from so many dreams, the one that has followed me through so many years.  I recognize that voice now, the voice that has haunted me from before my Tranquility.  It has finally found me.    

_Why do you hide from me quick child.  I do not seek to harm you.  I seek to help you._

I say nothing to this, distrusting this calm persuading voice that sounds so familiar and yet is completely unknown to me.  It must sense my skepticism for it continues without waiting for an answer.

_I can teach you to control that which you fear.  I can show you an easier path._

This prompts me to react.  “Nothing in life worth having is ever done easily,” I reply.  My father’s words, again he speaks in my head, reminding me of who I am.  I have never taken the easy path.  I have never traveled the clear trail.  I have always taken the hard, dark, uncertain road.

_You are tired of fighting.  I can feel it.  You ache for the peaceful time that you will not live to see.  Your life leads in one direction…Tragedy._

My will bristles at this portent.  “You’re wrong.  I will rise above even this.  I will find that future I long for one way or another.”

_But at what cost Dreamkeeper.  What cost?_

I don’t know what to say to this, so I say nothing at all, brewing silently on the words.  The voice is quiet for so long that I feel myself straining to sense anything.  Then it speaks again; 

_You have changed too much for that dream to satisfy you now. You will always search for a fight, even to the detriment of those around you.  Will you ever really be satisfied?  Will you not find a new cause to uphold?  For peace is so foreign to you now._

Again I am struck speechless.  My gut reaction is to lash back, and I even expect that this is the reaction it is looking for.  But the longer I am quiet, the longer I reflect on its words.  Do I truly always search for a fight?  The fights always seem to find me without any help from myself.  Again, it must gain some sense of my emotions for it says; 

_You will always fight.  You will always champion.  The All Mother has watched you grow and seen the fire in your heart.  But I do not think you are strong enough.  You do not know what lies ahead._ _There are those who struggle against destiny, and yet achieve only an early grave. There are those who flee destiny, only to have it swallow them whole. And there are those who embrace destiny, and do not show their fear. These are the ones that change the world forever. But you flee and hide, hoping you can avoid what is coming.  But it is too late Dreamkeeper.  It is much too late._

The fog begins to dissipate but I huddle in the darkness, longing to hide for just a bit longer.  Then more voices, this time so close it’s startling, as if they are right next to me.  Just hearing the one voice causes pain to lance through my chest that I immediately cringe back further into the darkness.  It lessens and the voices are further away but still discernible.

 “You said yourself they try to claim her.  What do you expect me to do?” a voice says.

“You are connected.  She will hear you,” some other entity shouts. 

“You do not know what you ask.” the first voice replies.

“You are the only one that will be able to reach her now.  Don’t pretend you don’t care,” the second voice responds. 

 “I care more than you realize,” the voice spits back. “But she won’t come to me.”  There is a moment of silence followed by a hollow, “Not now.”

“What have you done?”

And before I can distinguish anymore reality tilts and I am slipping completely into the comfortable darkness. 

I want to curl up and hide here, forget the pain, forget the betrayal, forget the emptiness that is sure to plague me.  But they won’t let me.  _He w_ on’t let me.  His figure appears before me, tall, wrapped in robes of deep green, a long staff in his hand.  I don’t recognize him and yet....and yet somehow I do.  He speaks in my mind, and I recognize it again, the one that has followed me from my childhood.   _Your companions try to save you. But do they know what harbours within?  Do they know what they will bring back?_

Confusion roils in my stomach at the implication in these questions.  “I am nothing but myself,” I snap.

Long fingers reach out to touch my temple and I stare long and hard at his features, trying to commit them to memory.  The strong nose, cleft chin, smooth hairless head, and the eyes that never seem to commit to one color, and then the fingertip brushes my temple and it’s as if I can feel his essence inside me, searching for something.  I feel his pleasure when he finds it, the invisible crack in the barrier of my mind.    _Are you alone?_ he asks mentally, in what seems like wry amusement.  _The door has been opened.  The seal broken.  I only wonder if you are strong enough to survive the coming war._

“What war?”

The man chuckles to himself.  _When the time comes, ask your warden.  I will be curious to see what happens._ And with that extremely vague reply, he vanishes.

I wait for the tumult of voices to return, to torture me, but they don’t.  They whisper in the dark, all at a distance, as if they are now spectators, that I have now been…claimed.

 “Come back,” a voice whispers from a far off distance and I want to ignore it.  But strangely it beckons, tempting me with the only light in a darkness that now seems bleak and empty.  It offers me comfort and solace and I find myself drawn like a moth to a flame.   “I need you to come back to me.”  I shake my head trying to dislodge the feeling.  Something sparks along my psyche, oddly familiar and comforting.  Life comes to phantom limbs that have somehow gone dormant.  Something calling… _No, I don’t want to go back._

_It is time_ , something deep within me speaks _.  The fight is not over yet._ But at the same time I reel back from this, and it feels like I am fighting myself.

_I don’t want to go back.  There is too much pain_ , I tell myself.

That strange sense of otherness speaks inside me again. _What is pleasure without pain, hope without despair, bravery without fear, light without darkness.  Only then will I be strong enough._

The call comes stronger, drowning out everything, and then my arms begin to burn, like they are being corroded by acid.  I clench my teeth, fighting the pain.  The need to follow becomes unbearably insistent.   

“What’s wrong, why isn’t she… is she gone?” a voice asks.

Another answers, full of pain, “She is fighting me.”

A third huffs, “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

I feel my sanity slipping, as if the world is tilting upward of its own accord.  I grasp at it, trying to hold on.

Then I see him one last time, staring with those ever changing eyes, in what seems like listlessness at me.  _The process has begun,_ he says in my mind one last time, and then I feel myself being pulled away.

I fight it, this need to rush to that call, and the moment I do I feel like I am burning alive again.  It is so painful, so excruciating that I want to scream but somehow can’t.  Flaming along my body until I swear I will ignite.  “Vita mea,” the call whispers to my soul, through the crack in my defences. “You can’t leave or I will be lost.”  A voice I know, a voice I love and yet manages to inflict so much pain.  It feels strange, as if it is somehow just beyond reach, just beyond…consciousness.

My eyes snap open to blinding light, lancing pain through my temple in sharp bursts.  My arms instinctively go up to block out the offending illumination only to find they are somehow restrained.  I struggle against the restraints until I realize the things holding me back are arms and the offending yet diminishing light is the ignited brands of lyrium throughout the body of the elf.

I push his arms off me and try to get away from him.  “What are you doing?  Get off me.”

He lets me move away.  My eyes dart around to take in the walls of my bedroom, and that I lay on the cushion of my bed that he so lately occupied.  “What are you doing here?”  I shake my head, “What am I doing here?”  _What in the void just happened_?

He sits on the end of the bed, staring off, probably wishing he weren’t here anymore.  “I did what I had to.  Nothing more,” he says.  The words are quiet and disconnected.  Where there was once so much warmth and acceptance is now nothing more than cold civility _.  I hate you_ , I think in sudden anger. _I hate that you have a part of me I will never get back._

Slowly the pieces come back together again and I remember everything that happened.

“My mother.” They are the only words I manage to choke out.

His head tilts towards the ground.  “I’m sorry.”  Reality sets in and I feel myself curl into a ball.  “I don’t know what to say but I am here,” he says.  Although the words seem incomplete, as if there were something meant to be at the end of them that went unvoiced.

I wrap my arms tighter around my legs as the anger I felt at the elf a moment before evolves into numbness.  It’s as if I am remembering this happening to someone else.  “Am I to blame for not saving her?” I ask, and the voice seems to come from some far off distance, not me at all.

He pauses, and turns his head towards me but our eyes don’t meet.  “If I said ‘no’ would it make you feel better?  You are looking for forgiveness but I am not the one to give it to you.”

“No,” I mumble.  “No, you are not.”  He says nothing and yet doesn’t move to leave.  I am mad at him.  Or at least I am supposed to be yet I seem unable to feel anything at the moment.   _Shock_ , I think _, it must be shock._   We sit in silence for a while and I can still feel him moving through me, like an invisible thing, as if he is somehow a part of me.   It takes me a few moments to work out why.  The lyrium.  He infused me with it until I broke free.  He willingly gave himself over possibly knowing what could happen.  But the voices…

The voices are gone.

“You…”  and I seem unable to voice my realization as the full implications of what could have happened, hit me.  If I had been possessed by a demon he would now lay dead at my feet with all the power he controlled at the demons disposal.  Was that what that thing was?  Was it a demon?  But something inside me says no, it did not feel like a demon at all.   _Oh Maker_.  _Why would Fenris…  After everything that happened…_   It doesn’t make any sense and I don’t have the courage to ask why.

Seeming to read my mind at least somewhat he says, “I repaid my debt.  That is all.”  Again, the finality of his words, the abrupt harshness, only serves to hurt me and raise my anger.

I grind my teeth.  “Where are the others?”

He looks at me briefly.  “The abomination lurks outside refusing to leave you alone.  Aveline has gone to inform the others but will be back shortly.”

_Why did you come?_ The question lingers in my mind, unvoiced and unanswered.  Anders enters and instantly the tension in the room rises.  They look at each other, and the expression of malicious contempt that passes between the two is astounding.  They have always hated each other, but for some reason there appears to be a lot more going on than I know about.   Fenris, seeming to have no more to say to me, gets up to leave.  His back is to me and he looks completely the same save the red sash that is tied around his arm, _my_ red sash. 

“Why do you have _that_?” I call after him acidly.

Immediately the elf stiffens and turns slowly.  Our eyes meet and if I thought I would be able to discern anything from his features I am sadly mistaken.  “A reminder of what I have given up.”

I stare at him for a long moment trying to figure out the hidden meaning of that statement since his face gives nothing away.  All I can think of is his parting remark.  _This should have never happened in the first place._ “A reminder of your mistake you mean.”  And even to me those words sound so full of pain and hostility. 

Something flashes across his face but is gone too fast for me to detect.  “Yes, my mistake,” he growls, turns, and is gone.   

My mind is still spinning when Anders comes to sit on the edge of the bed facing me, staring hard.  “I need to test you.  I need to know for sure." 

I nod, trying to push away the pain.  Such a force of magic surges through me that it takes the breath from my lungs, leaving me winded.  I am gasping when I look back up at him.  “Satisfied,” I gurgle.

He nods and smiles.  “You did it.  You actually did it.”

“I…” hesitating, I’m not sure what to say, but I don’t think I broke free of my own accord.  I was…let go.

“You broke free of the Fade.  You found your way back and fought them off.”

Looking away as I try to wade through all of this information in my head.  “I don’t think I did it alone,” I mumble more to myself than to Anders.  Did they let me go?  Why would a demon let me go, unless…  No.  I am not possessed.  Anders has already determined that.  Yet I feel different and the same.  I also keep hearing Fenris’s voice whispering, _Vita Mea, you can’t leave or I will be lost._   Was that truly him?  Did he really whisper that in my ear? 

“How exactly did Fenris end up being pulled into this?  He wasn’t with us.  Who told him?” I demand a little too harshly. 

Anders’ face loses some of its happiness at the mention of the elf but seems to bear it well enough.  “That would be Aveline’s fault.  You were screaming.  We thought you were losing it.  It wasn’t until I picked you up that Justice detected the _other_ presence that had wrapped itself around you.”  He looks away, gaze going distant, his hands unconsciously wringing themselves with some unnamed emotion.  “I thought I’d lost you.  I really thought I’d lost you,” he says, barely audible. “I didn’t realize…” He looks back up at me again and his face is full of so much emotion that it causes a lump to form in my throat.  _Oh Anders no.  Don’t do this.  Not now._  His hand touches my leg and I feel myself stiffen slightly at the intimate contact.  _Please don’t._   _Because I don’t know if I could stop myself and it would not be fair to you.  It isn’t you I want.  What I want isn’t attainable.  A mistake that should have never happened in his eyes.  Don’t you see, I would never be fully yours._   All of this I say silently but can’t bring myself to say it out loud, not again and see the hurt it will inevitably cause.  He knows, he should know, and yet he does not give up.

“Hawke.”  He says my name tentatively, anxiously.  “I need to know.  Is there any chance?  Are you…You and Fenris…” he sighs with his inability to just ask the question he wants to ask.  I can see it written across his face.  “Should I leave you alone?”

_Yes…no…I don’t know.   I don’t want to be alone and he…_

“He left me,” and an acrid laugh bubbles up from my throat.  “I gave him _everything_ and he left me.”  The laugh dies abruptly and the pain of the realization strikes again _.  I will never leave you_ , he said _._   Lies, all lies.  I look away, trying to hide the tears in my eyes that threaten to spill over.  I feel like I’m falling apart all over again _._  

His hand brushes my cheek turning my gaze back to his.  “Given the chance I would never betray you as he has.”

_Wouldn’t you,_ I think.  “Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep.  I know where your priorities lie.”  His face twists and I know I’ve hurt him.  A pang of guilt makes me look away.  “I’m sorry.  I’ve just lost my faith in mages at the moment.  The more I help them the more I seem to get screwed by them.”  _If I look back I am lost._

His expression becomes worrisome.  “Don’t let what one mage did to you color your entire existence like Fenris has.”

A fiery rage leaps up at his comment.  “One mage?  One mage!” my voice rises in anger and contempt and I’m suddenly drowning in too much emotion.  “For all the things I do for these mages, for all the things I’ve done.  I’ve killed templars, framed templars, helped mages escape, freed what were probably blood mages and then turned around and outright lied to the templars that came looking for them,” I snap.  “I’ve let a known blood mage free and then used him to find my mother only to find out he was the necromancer’s apprentice all along and would have willingly done that to her all in the name of research.”  _Stop, if I look back I am lost._  I get out of the bed and start pacing the room, unable to contain my growing agitation, unable to ignore it and let it go.  “My decisions to help them have ruined my life!” I shout at him.  “I’ve lost the only family member I had left to another demented mage.”  _If I look back_ …The tears start to fall and I collapse to my knees on the ground.  “My sister…” I say brokenly, “my brother…” I choke up, “my father….” I pause as I try to swallow around the lump in my throat, “and now my mother.” _If I look back…_ I let out a disgusted laugh that turns into a sob.  “My entire family is gone….They are all _gone_.”  I say with a hideous sob, then all of my iron control gives out and I lose it.  _I am lost.  I am lost._   The misery takes me and I let it.  Sobs wrack my chest until I can barely get a breath.  _How many times can your heart break before it becomes impossible to put back together again_ , I wonder.  Arms enfold me, and the smell of elfroot surrounds me, reminding me of home, my only real home.  He joins me on the floor, pulling my body around him until my head leans into the hollow of his collarbone and neck and I cry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its all coming together slowly. Hope you all liked this twist. More to come soon. Thank you all for all your support and again I have to thank my Beta Enchant for making me write what I don't want to write sometimes because the end result is always so much better. Until next time...


	16. Pretender

The house feels empty now even though it is far from it with Orana, Bohdan and Sandal roaming about.  Still the absence of my mother’s shadow haunts me and it seems impossible to get away from.  How cruel fate is to give her back her family home and months later take her life before she even really has a chance to enjoy it.  I’ve been standing on the balcony for hours now trying to find some sense of stability and failing.  My eyes droop with fatigue, my body so burnt out from lack of sleep the last few weeks that it’s a miracle I can get up at all.   I manage only a few hours a night before the nightmares wake me up.   Every evening my mind devises some new horror to visit me with because it has so many to choose from now.  Last night, the long list of people I’ve killed threw me into a pit, each one taking a turn to shovel dirt in the hole, only instead of dirt it was ashes.  There were so many, faces I barely even recognize from countless battles and yet my mind has managed to hold on to each one.  They pour ashes on me until I am covered; coughing up mouthfuls of the black soot, and then, when the line finally ceases my sister comes to pour the last shovel full over my face.   I woke up from that one twisted so tightly in my sheets that I thought for sure I had been buried after all, screaming so loud that Orana came sprinting into the room to find me sobbing in a heap on the floor.  I never thought I was all that creative, but my mind has discovered countless ways to terrify me each and every night.  Needless to say, I find it extremely difficult to fall back asleep again, so I end up walking the streets in the dark hours before dawn.  Varric has offered me his couch as a place to crash but I can’t make myself become a burden to him again.  The easy way would be to release the lyrium that travels like a second life force inside of me but I can’t make myself do it.  I’ve come to enjoy the feel of the magic coursing through my veins, the thrill of it leaving the confines of my body.  It is the only thing that makes me feel alive, makes me feel in control, so I hold onto it; otherwise I fall so far into the darkness that I feel nothing at all.  It also gives me a small measure of satisfaction to know I have become the thing Fenris despises, longing for the day he calls me an abomination.  I should be disturbed by that, watching his discomfort and enjoying it, but I’m not.

Word of the one night stand between Fenris and I has become common knowledge to our companions which resulted in one night of teasing and was so harshly received by both of us that no one has said a word since.  Even Isabela has desisted after seeing the expression on our faces, too much pain for even her to make fun of, I guess.  Varric still worries about me, keeps asking if I’m alright.  Between the death of my mother and Fenris walking out on me the night before that, I should feel like falling apart, and there are days when I almost do, but after losing it with Anders, I’ve realized it takes ten times as long to put myself back together, than it does to fall apart. 

After that horrible night, the voices appear to no longer be an issue.  They have withdrawn completely and I am not sure why.  Anders speculates that it has something to do with my blackout after my mother’s death.  I have a hard time recalling anything from that now, other than bits and pieces.  In fact, after I managed to pick up the pieces of my shattered emotions, I couldn’t remember much of anything other than a bizarre sense of otherness.  But now it’s as if trying to recall a dream weeks after it has happened when it’s nothing but an impression of feelings.  When I strain to remember any particular detail, or when I think I am remembering something important, it slips away.  Anders has tried to help me focus a few times with the same maddening result.  I’ve given up, assuming that for whatever reason I am not supposed to remember.  At my insistence, he has tested me multiple times because there are moments that I swear I am not alone.

We also discovered that when it comes to replenishing my magic, ordinary lyrium potions do little to nothing for me, depending on the quality and strength of the potion.  Anders has contemplated that using lyrium that is closer to the source might be a better option, such as what the templars take.  However that course of action worries me.  Could I become addicted?  Could I harness that without killing myself in the process?  What kind of effect would it have?  There are too many questions to count and enough reasons to avoid that avenue all together. 

The wind whips my hair around my face as I watch the city bustle below me.  There is tension in the streets, people hurrying around for no reason as if they are preparing for an oncoming storm.  The past three weeks has seen the slow building of a pressure between the Qunari and just about everyone else in Kirkwall.  The Viscount was up shit creek after we revealed to the Arishok the murder of so many Qunari guardsmen.  Then the senseless murder of the Viscount’s son has created such a rift that it is only a matter of time now before things explode.  If the Viscount took the issues in hand, and dealt with them, things might turn out differently but he has no will left to rule since the death of his only child.  He is a broken man now, shuts himself up in his office, no longer capable, or any interest in leading the city.  The death of a child is the hardest thing to endure.  It took my mother years to recover from Bethany and Carver’s deaths, and there were days the sadness took hold and did not ease up.  Sometimes things happen to us that we are not equipped to deal with and the mind does what it can to withdraw from the pain.  So I understand the Viscount’s absence but it is only making everything worse.  Whatever keeps the Qunari here does not stop them from hating the chaos that seems to congregate in this city like a nest of vipers.  Kill one and another pops up in its place.  Sometimes I wonder if the city has become the center for ‘shit gone awry’. 

The city is being torn apart slowly.  War would almost be a better thing since the tension has led to a huge spike in racial violence. Elf against human, human against qunari, qunari against everyone not in the Qun.  Ugh.  There have been brawls every night this week at the Hanged Man.  Alcohol combined with rising tempers has had some very painful results.  You would think people would learn because, while it is always some inebriated fool who starts it, we are the ones that finish it.  Everyone is on edge, including us, and it has Aveline and the city guard running in circles trying helplessly to keep the peace.  There will be no peace.  Not until chaos has had its rein.   Or at least in the opinion of Fenris who has seen such things in Tevinter before.  Unfortunately, I believe he is right.  I sigh and head inside to get changed. 

After braiding my hair tightly against my head, I get to the balcony of my stairway when both Isabela and Aveline enter arguing with each other. _What is it now?_   I lean over the balcony, watching the verbal spat. 

“Don’t interrupt with your selfish prattle,” Aveline sneers at the pirate.

“Get off your high horse.  I have problems too,” she retorts.

Aveline scoffs, “‘What drink should I order?’ and ‘Who’s the father?’”

This was going to come to blows quickly.

“Oh you little…” and the pirate’s hand rises when I intercede.

“What is it now, you two?”

My gaze goes back and forth between the two of them bringing what was sure to be a bitch slap to a grinding halt.  They both look at me and start talking at the same time.  After some rather nasty comments on both sides I am finally able to get their problems out of them.  Aveline needs my help with the Arishok over some elves that need to be arrested, which could just be the straw that will break the camel’s back.  And Isabela has finally gotten some information on this ever elusive relic of hers and of course it has something to do with the Qunari.  Choices, choices.  After a long pause I tell Aveline I’ll meet her in the Gallows tomorrow morning.  The guard captain gives me a sour look at this but reluctantly agrees. 

 That night, I am staring around at the bodies of the Qunari guard that we just killed.  My head is trying to come up with possible explanations to the Arishok as to why we killed them in the first place.  I just made things for Aveline much worse even if this relic is supposed to help the situation. 

“If the Arishok asks why we killed his men we’ll say it was an accident.”  I shake my head, knowing he won’t believe it.

Isabela looks around, uneasy.  “Uhhh. Yes about that…” and she hesitates and looks uncomfortable.  This is completely un-Isabela like behavior.  “This relic kind of belongs to the Qunari and there is a good chance they will want it back.” 

I feel like a lead weight has dropped into my stomach.  _Venhedis!_ I almost snap but manage to choke back at the last possible moment.  Talking like Fenris will get me nowhere.   “Tell me what you know Isabela.  You can trust me.”

She shifts on her feet and avoids my eyes.  “I’ve always known what the relic is…but I didn’t want to worry you.”  My lips press into a thin line.  This sounds very much like the beginning of an excuse.  When she sees may face she hurries with an explanation.  “The relic is a qunari text, handwritten by that philosopher of theirs,” and she pauses like she searching for a name.  “Uh, Keslen, Kuslen,” she lets out a breath in aggravation, “whatever his name is.”

“Koslun,” Fenris helpfully supplies.

She smiles and snaps her fingers, “That’s the one.”

“The founder of their religion, the most revered being in their history.  That text would be sacred beyond measure,” he says, and just by the tone of his voice I can tell this unsettles him.

She huffs and looks away, “I stole it from them.  They followed me here to reclaim it and it’s why they’re still in Kirkwall.”   I stare at her; the numbing ability of the darkness that has consumed me the last few weeks is the only thing that stops me from bitch slapping her to the ground right there.  She is the entire reason the city is falling into chaos.  One person’s actions responsible for all of this death.  She continues with her explanation like I’m not starring at her with daggers in my eyes.  “They can’t leave the Free Marches without it.”

My teeth grind together and I barely get the next words out.  “I thought the Qunari and you were caught in a storm?”

She looks at me and almost blanches at the expression on my face.  “The storm was only half of it.  I also had the Qunari Dreadnought stuck to my behind like a bad rash spitting fire and thunder at me.”

There is a moment where I am so angry at her that I think I just might scream but then it dies under the realization that if we gave it back this just might solve everything.  “Maybe giving it back would solve Aveline’s problem.”

The pirate does not look happy with this option.  “That mess is over a couple of elves.  I need it to save my own skin.”

I stare at her, first because I’m trying to figure out if she is being serious, then because I just can’t believe I let myself trust her.  “Why would anyone besides the Qunari want this relic?”

“The Tevinter Imperium has been at war with the Qunari for centuries.  If the Tevinters get the relic, it will strike a blow to Qunari morale.  That’s probably what the mages want.”

I close my eyes and shake my head.  How is this happening?  A war brought half way across the world that I’ve been unwittingly dragged into.  Fate must think she is hilarious.  I could just laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it.  What are the chances?  One in a thousand…one in a million?  An exhausted chuckle breaks free of my throat.  “How did you even get it in the first place?”

“The Arishok never had it.  The Orlesians did.  They had plans to return it to the Qunari.  I simply had to waylay the Orlesian convoy before it met up with the Arishok and his men.  Getting the relic was easy.  Getting away from the Qunari was the hard part.” 

“Sounds like the Qunari take their reading very seriously.”  I reply, fatigue draining whatever remaining anger I have left. 

The pirate shrugs, “Is there anything the Qunari don’t take seriously.  Look, the book is right in this building and I’m not letting it slip away again.  It’s the only thing that will get Castillon off my back.  Please, tell me you’ll give the relic to me.”

“And risk all-out war in Kirkwall?” I ask in exasperation.  Doesn’t she realize I would help take care of Castillon.  I care about her but I can’t in good conscience send all the people of Kirkwall to an early grave to do it.  Castillon is the easier obstacle of the two.  “No.  The relic goes back to the Qunari so they can peacefully leave this city.” 

Her face twists and a shadow passes underneath her eyes before she looks down.  “Fine.  Let’s just get this over with.”

The next fight is a short but bloody one.  Bodies of mages and Qunari alike litter the foundry where the relic was being held.  I run out the door, looking for the pirate who disappeared half way through the battle. 

“Isabela!” I call, but get no answer.  Anders and Fenris come out behind me and I hear one of them sigh.  A lone male body lies on the street with a pool of blood already gone cold.  A hastily written note lies on top of his body.  Picking it up, I recognize Isabela’s scrawl.

_Dear Hawke,_

_I have the relic, and I am gone.  I’ve lost too much over this blighted thing to let it go again.  I know it would be noble to return the relic to the Qunari, but that would require a better soul than I possess._

_For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I lied to you again._

_Isabela_

 The note falls from my hands to the ground, quickly staining red with blood.  She knew what I would say from the very beginning.  There was no way she could have possibly written all of this while we battled, so she knew she was going to betray me before she even asked for my help.  I close my eyes.  I don’t know whether I feel more like laughing or crying and so end up doing neither. 

Fenris comments on her actions, “Once a thief always a thief.”

My eyes open and I feel my conscience harden over.  “Will you all betray me before the end?” I ask them both coldly without turning around. 

“I will never betray you.  I will never use you.”  Anders says, causing me to turn around.  Seeing his face, I feel my blank expression change.  I take a step towards him and place my hand over his cheek and smile sadly.  There is one overwhelming moment that I want to kiss him, wrap myself in his arms and pretend everything is ok, but then Fenris shifts beside him and my eyes instinctively go to him as he watches me impassively, no…forlornly?  My gaze is drawn to my red sash that still remains tied at his wrist, a little worse for wear.  Memories flash and my jaw hardens, my hand drops from Ander’s cheek and I turn and walk away.  _Love is weakness.  Love is weakness,_ I remind myself. 

We walk some distance in silence and I think that I should probably tell Aveline what has happened.  She isn’t going to be happy.  The Arishok certainly won’t be happy, not that he ever is.  I let my breath out in a sigh.  “Time to inform the Guard Captain.”

“Now?” Fenris asks.

I shrug, “You have a better idea?”

I am met with silence on both ends so I make the turn that leads to Hightown.  It doesn’t take long to get there, but with the two of them trailing behind me, burning holes in the back of my head, it feels like an eternity.  I wonder who will break first.  It should come as no surprise to me that it is Anders.

“I can’t imagine what Hawke sees in you,” he says disdainfully.  _Void take him_.

Fenris is quiet for a bit, then says, “It is done.  Leave it be.”  Those words are like a dagger in the chest and I hate myself for still being able to be hurt by him.  Anders seems to be waiting for some input on my part but I can’t turn around and face them.  The pain is still to raw, so I do nothing.

“Well, good.  I always knew she had some sense.” Anders says harshly, as if he is trying to defend my honor.

Then something unexpected happens.  Fenris lashes out at him, his voice sharp and cutting.  “Do not make light of this.  Leaving was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

I almost stop in my tracks.  As it is my gait slows and then starts again abruptly as I try to decipher the meaning of his words.  _If leaving was the hardest thing he had ever done then why did he do it in the first place?  Why rip my heart out again?_   Confused, I keep walking as if I’ve heard none of it.

Love is weakness.

We reach the Viscount’s Keep and make our way to Aveline’s quarters.  I am about to knock on the door when I hear moaning on the other side of it, followed by the timber of Donnic’s voice.    I stop in mid motion, torn on what to do.  Anders breaks the silence.

“What are you waiting for?” he asks.

I look at him and my cheeks color.  There is a flurry of movement from the other side of the door, and moments later the door cracks open to reveal Aveline, skin flushed a deep crimson with a robe thrown around her.  “Hawke I thought…” and her retort is cut off from the look on my face.  “What’s wrong?” she asks immediately, “What’s happened?”

I take a few moments to inform her on the pirate’s actions.  Her eyes narrow, her clenched jaw tightening the outlines of her face, “If I ever see that whore again I will nail her tits to the wall.”

I cringe _.  Maker, remind me not to piss her off._    Then suddenly I say something that seems to come from somewhere deep inside me.  “I am stuck in a world where loyalty is just a tattoo, love is just a quote, and lying is the new truth," already knowing a sad smile has split my lips.  I don't know where I've heard that before.  It just came out of me, and yet I cannot deny the truth to the meaning of those words.  Loyalty is only skin deep, love is meaningless and lying is the new norm.  I don't need to turn around to know both men are starring at me.

Aveline chuckles, “That savors strongly of disappointment, Hawke.  Perhaps you are putting your faith into the wrong people.”

I give her a lopsided smile and shift my feet, “Undoubtedly you are right, my friend.”  I put my hand on her shoulder through the doorway, “I am sorry to disturb you.  Enjoy your man.” Her cheeks redden again and I hear Donnic yell, “Not as sorry as you’re going to be if you don’t get your ass out of here.”

 I smile genuinely and snort in amusement.  “I will see you in the morning, Aveline.”

Aveline returns my smile but then her face becomes stoic, “Don’t come until you are absolutely sure everything else is taken care of.  Something tells me this is not going to end well.”

I nod, she closes the door and we leave.

We are coming down the Keeps stairs when Anders asks, “Did you mean that?  What you said about loyalty.”

I feel my lips curling wryly.  “I don’t expect much from people.” I tell him, “Loyalty and honesty are all I ask for.”  After a moment I add, “And yet I am a killer in the service of liars and thieves.”

“Loyalty is slavery in disguise,” Fenris says.  I turn and open my mouth to say something scathing and then stop when I see the expression on his face.  He looks lost, lost in some memory I know nothing about. 

“Of course you would think that.” Anders replies viciously. 

The elf continues as if he hasn’t heard the mage.  “Or at least that is what I thought since my escape.  It’s why I hated you when I first met you.  You demand loyalty from everyone.  Demand it the way mages in the Imperium demand it but never give in return.  And I thought you were just like them, holding people to an impossible standard.”  His face twists into something hateful but then just as quickly melts away.  He looks up at me, searching my face for something.  “But I realized you’re not.  You hold yourself to an even higher standard.  You give until you have nothing left.”  He pauses again and looks at the ground.  Anders stays surprisingly quiet.  “When I realized that I could no longer hate you.  But I deserve no such loyalty from you and I know despite what I’ve done I could still count on you even now.”  He opens his mouth to say something more but then seems to think better of it.  Instead before I can think of anything to say in return he turns and calls over his shoulder, “If you need me, I am here.” And then adds more quietly something I am barely able to make out, “I will always be here.”

I stand there watching him walk away, completely confused at the simmering of emotions that stir within me.  _Love is weakness_ , I remind myself.  Anders shuffles his feet, drawing my attention.  The mage watches the elf walk away as well, and I can see the conflicting emotions on his face.  “I want to hate him,” he says, sensing my gaze.  “But right now I can’t.  He’s right about you.  I will never agree with him on anything else but in this he is right.”  He goes quiet, staring at the dark, now empty street.  I still don’t know what to say.  He takes a step towards me, tilts his head down, putting a hand delicately on the back of my neck under my hair.  My eyes drift upwards and I think he is going to kiss me but then he diverts and places a soft kiss on my cheek.  I am now too stunned to even move.  He stares down at me from inches away.  “Get some sleep Hawke.  I have a feeling you will need it.”

I look away, disconcerted.  “Sleep,” I mumble.  “Right.”  Too tired to even bring up the whole not sleeping thing.  “Yes, see you tomorrow.”  I turn and go into my house and up to my bedroom without seeing anyone; mechanically take off my clothes and wrap myself in the sheets of my bed, but sleep is a long time from coming.

At some point sleep came because the next thing I knew it was daylight.  A knock comes at my door and I realize it was probably what has woken me. 

“Come in.”

Orana pokes her blonde head through the door and smiles timidly at me.  “Mistress-“

“Hawke or Cassandra.  Please, a person calling me by a title is disturbing.  I wish Bohdan would stop calling me Messere.”

“Miss- Hawke,” she says and opens the door completely.  “The Captain came looking for you.  She said when you’re ready, to meet her down at the docks.”

I sigh as an uneasy feeling flutters in my stomach.  “Ok, thank you.” 

She closes the door and I am left to stare bleary eyed throughout the room.  Moving as if I have weights tied to my limbs, I get up and lumber about the room feeling like I haven’t slept at all.  I try shaking it off but my body protests.  This is a weariness of not only the body but the soul as well.  “Just keep moving forward Cassie,” I mutter to myself.  “Your rest is coming.”  I close my eyes and take a deep breath and let it out slowly.  I put on the armor, fix my hair back tightly, grab my daggers and am about to walk out the door when I see Bohdan looking uneasy in the corner of the living room. 

“Bohdan, I want you to lock this door as soon as I leave. Keep your son and Orana safe for me.  The storm is coming and it won’t be pretty.”

He nods, “Yes Messere.”

My mabari, Zeus, whines as I go to the front door.  I turn back to look at the anxious creature.  “You want to come chew up some Qunari?” I ask.  He stands up on all four paws and barks once, sharp and concise. “Alright, come on then.” I smile at him.  He sprints forward and out the door, dashing around in circles in the Hightown Courtyard.  Pulling the door shut behind me, I tarry only long enough to hear the lock click into place.

 The walk to the docks is an uneventful one.  There are hardly any people out on the streets, and the ones who are constantly dart their eyes around looking for the next attacker.  As I walk down the stairs, a cool salty breeze comes off the ocean, and I momentarily wish I could keep walking down to the docks but Aveline waits for me just around the corner.

The Qunari compound has three guards on it as usual but out of place are the six guardsmen and the Guard captain who stands with her arms crossed over her chest.  I blow out air through my mouth as I walk up the stairs, feeling the Qunari’s eyes track my movement.  They exchange some words in their language that I don’t understand but by their tone I’m guessing it isn’t very nice. 

Aveline regards me stoically, “Are you ready?”  she asks.

I shrug, “I’m always ready for the pleasant company of the Arishok, although I did forget to bring my bottle of Aggrio.” I sigh forlornly, “Oh well.  I guess I will just have to make do.”

The guard captain snorts and shakes her head, turning around towards the Qunari gates as she does.  “We are here to see the Arishok,” she says to the Qunari guardsman. 

He eyes us disdainfully before finally saying, “He will allow it but not in this number. And the dog must remain here”

My jaw tightens instinctively.  What’s wrong with my dog?  Aveline points to three others of her guard and they follow behind us.  Zeus whines when the gate closes between us, but otherwise does nothing.  The moment we enter I can feel the roil of energy in the air, like a predator tracking us as we walk across the enclosure.  So many eyes follow our progress, taking our measure, that it makes my skin crawl.  It’s never felt this hostile before, not that it ever felt like sunshine and rainbows, but at least I didn’t fear being skewered on sight.  Aveline can feel it to because I can see her hands opening and closing at her sides, wishing she could have her sword and shield in hand.  We reach the Arishok, who stands like a disgraced god before the stairs that lead up to his throne and Aveline begins to command for the release of the elves to her custody.

 Immediately I see his face grow with fury at this demand.  In the most condescending voice, I hear him reply to her.  “Irrelevant.  I would speak to Hawke about the relic stolen from my grasp.”

I raise my eyebrows and immediately think, _Damn you Isabela_.  “You give me time.  I’ll get it back for you.”

“It is much too late for that,” he growls back.

“An issue for another time.  We’re here for the fugitives,” Aveline demands.

“The elves are now Viddathari.  They have chosen to submit to the Qun.  They will be protected.”

“You must know that harboring murders will lead to bloodshed,” I say.

“It will lead were it must.” The finality of that statement lets both of us know that he expects it to resort to battle.  Aveline and I both exchange a glance.  But I can see she will not back down.  He pauses, “You have not hidden the abuses of your zealots, or the corruption of this city.  You will understand why I must do this.  Let us look at your _dangerous_ criminals.”

The two elves come forward, explaining their supposed crimes to the guard captain.  I see her face change when the elves explain their reasons, but the law is the law to her, a thing to be upheld at all costs.  _This is not going to end well._  

“That doesn’t excuse murder,” she retorts at the Arishok.  This is like taunting a rabid mabari.  I need to diffuse this somehow, even if Aveline is angry at me after.  I’d rather walk away alive. 

“Are the elves telling the truth?” I ask her.

“There have been rumors.  I will investigate, but they still took the law into their own hands.”  _Come on Aveline_ , I think _.  Learn to bend a little._

“Sometimes that is necessary,” the Arishok replies.

“Like you avenged the Viscount’s son,” she says, scowling.  “It was not right then, and it’s not right now.”  _Please Aveline stop._

I sigh, “I would have done the same thing in their shoes.”

“Hawke that’s not helping,” she yells at me without looking.

“Their actions are mere symptoms. Your society is the disease.  They have chosen.  The Viddathari will submit to the Qun and find a path your way denied them,” the Arishok states.  If I could roll my eyes right now I would.  This will lead nowhere good.

Aveline steps forward, invading his personal space. “You can’t just decide that.  You must hand them over.”

The Arishok regards her for a moment then turns away.  For a moment I let the air out of my lungs _.  Will he actually submit?  Is it over?_   He turns around and by the look on his face alone I know the answer.  “Tell me Hawke, what would you do in my place?” he asks.

I try to think of any way to stop this from leading to chaos.  I shrug and reply, “Why pass up perfectly good converts.”  The guard captain shoots me a dirty look which I ignore _.  I want to live, Aveline._

“Exactly so.” He pauses and considers this a moment. “I cannot leave without the relic, and I cannot stay and remain blind to this dysfunction.  There is only one solution.” _Oh Maker, no._

And finally the Guard Captain realizes what is about to happen.  “Arishok there is no need for…” she begins but is cut short when he turns and walks away from her.  _Here it comes._

“Vinck kathas,” he says.

Pulling out my daggers I turn just in time to see one guard die, impaled by a massive spear, the blood splatters me like rain except it is warm, much warmer than it should be.  His face is surprised, his hands gripping the massive end as if he could pull it out.    _Another vision to add to my nightmares_ , I think, and I’m startled back to reality as a spear misses my head by inches and clatters harmlessly to the ground.  _Get out, Get out, Get out._   Then suddenly there are dozens more spears flying at us.  I would say the expression on Aveline’s face was comical if I wasn’t now fighting for my life.  Another spear hurtles towards me and without thinking my blade whips out and diverts it away from my body.  Then it is one after another, barely missing the lances as we backpedal as fast as we can for the gates.  I hear viscous barking from the other side just as the two remaining guards under Aveline’s command die in quick succession.  Aveline and I run, by some miracle not ending up mounted on the end of one of those spears.  I think I will find the gates locked when I see what remained of Aveline’s guards dead but the two Qunari guardsmen lie dead on the ground as well littered with massive gashes that could have only been made by teeth.  The guard captain pulls the gate open and Zeus barks at us.

If it wasn’t for him we probably wouldn’t have made it out at all. “Good boy,” I praise him as we run out of the compound and into the streets of Kirkwall.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I hope you enjoyed this one, I know this included a lot of game play stuff which can get a little repetitive but I wanted to include this one. After I finish next chapter I will need to take some time off. Hopefully not more than a month or so depending on how fast I can get the next few chapters written. My time for writing has decreased dramatically as of late. I will do my best to work on it as much as possible but please be patient. I love that you guys are into this so much that you bug me for the next chapter. Really, I've never had that happen before, it's awesome. I'm writing as fast as possible without sacrificing quality or creativity. Until next time let me know what you think.


	17. Battle Cry

The death that ensued on the heels of our escape was tragic.  If the people of Kirkwall weren’t being carried off kicking and screaming or pleading for their life, they were massacred.  So much blood, so many bodies.  Fires burned, the cheap houses in Lowtown catching like kindling.  Varric, Fenris, and Merrill met us at the top of the stairs, having been drawn out by the screaming patrons. 

Varric looked the two of us up and down. “Ancestors, what did you two do?  I don’t need any more story material,” he said much more irately than usual.

 “Well you’re about to have some more, Varric,” Aveline responded apathetically. “Ok, you four head to Hightown.   I have a feeling that’s where they’re headed.  I will find Donnic and the rest of the guard and curtail as much of this as I can.  Andraste save us, we will get out of this alive.”

“And hopefully not in the Qun,” I replied.  She shot me a look that wasn’t nice.  “What?  You think I’m joking?  They will chain me up like the rest of their Saarebas for being what I am.  I’d like to remain free thinking and walking around, thank you.”  She nodded in quiescence to my remark. I turn to the others, “Come on, let’s get to Hightown.”  I turned back to the guard captain, “Aveline, take Zeus and stay…alive.”  I was about to say _safe_ but that seemed a moot point right then.  None of us were safe. 

Right after we split up, we ran into a pair of Grey Wardens in a battle with some Qunari, attempting to make haste through the city.  It was odd really, the timing of it all.  After the skirmish, I asked them to help us fight, to help us take back the city, and the one in charge, whose name was Stroud, refused.  I almost balked at that and he must have seen the expression on my face because he instantly responded as to why.

“I’m truly sorry I cannot help more.  But believe it or not we are on a very important mission.”

“More important than helping a city that is being torn to shreds?”  I asked acidly.

“Yes,” he said simply. “I’m sorry that I cannot tell you more.  It is a Grey Warden matter.  But here,” he said and pulled something out of his pocket.  “Maybe this will help.”  He dropped an amulet in my hands. “Good Luck,” he said, “may the Maker guide you.”  And then he was gone.  

After that it was a series of horrible battles in the streets of the city.  The entire time I wondered if Isabela had stayed, would things have ended differently.  Would the Qunari now be sailing away instead of ripping the city apart?

I finally had the pleasure of meeting Knight Commander Meredith face to face.  The encounter clearly stated that she was aware of everything that I was doing for the mages and wasn’t happy about it.  But the city being in the state it was in she had little choice than to accept my help.  I also met the First Enchanter who was the only survivor among many dead mages. 

When the Knight Commander and the First Enchanter crossed paths, the looks on both of their faces reminded me so much of the way Fenris and Anders glare at each other that I had to choke back a laugh.  That did not go over too well.

Now I watch as Orsino strides towards the Qunari guarding the front of the Keep.  There must be about a dozen of them all armed to the teeth.  The four of us wait in the shadows for Orsino to divert their attention.  I know he is powerful just by the magic that surrounds him.  I can feel it congregate to him and when he calls the spell the effect is almost staggering.  I tense as the magic is literally sucked within the mage and the ball of fire appears in his hand.   There is a strong pull in my stomach, not uncomfortable just odd, and without thinking I am placing my hand on the ground as I hear a voice that I swear I’ve heard before recite the words of a spell…in elven.  Without thinking, I repeat the words, and as the last syllable leaves my lips, I gasp.  Merrill inhales sharply and I hear her say something in elven that I don’t catch.  The energy flows out of me and into the ground, as if it is being consumed in some invisible vortex and then I feel it connect with Orsino’s own, intensifying the inferno of power within the mage.  An instant later the First Enchanter’s eyes flick my way with a slight nod of surprised approval and amazingly the fireball grows in size just before its goes flying at the Qunari.  This seems to do the trick for they shout in their guttural language as three more massive fireballs hurl towards them in quick succession.  I am almost held still in awe on the power I feel flow from him, his and mine combined.  But he handles it so much smoother, so much calmer than myself, but no less powerful; more like the power of a river that can tear down anything in its path, whereas mine is like a waterfall crashing to the ground.  _How does he have it so controlled_ , I wonder.  And then I feel a nudge from Varric, and I know it’s time for us to go.

We slither along the shadows of the building, avoiding the battle, and make it to the front door undetected.  Slipping inside is easier than I expect, and we quickly make our way through the Keep, ignoring the dead bodies on the floor.  It is already too late for them, and there are so many others that need our help now.

Screams of horror rise just beyond the double doors in front of us; I pause glancing at the others. 

“This can’t be good,” Varric says.

“No I don’t imagine it will be,” I reply, sighing.  _Please just let us survive_ , I pray silently to whichever god will listen.

Pushing open the doors, I am greeted with a rolling head that comes to a stop at my feet.  When I look down, I see the stricken face of the Viscount frozen in death.  It hardly seems to make a difference anymore.  So much death, so much hatred, and somehow I am caught in the middle of it all.  _How did it end up like this?_ But then the answer comes to me in the form of a name, _Isabela_.  Damn that pirate to the Void.

“You dare!  You are starting a war!” one of the nobles shouts.

A qunari steps up behind him and, before I can do a thing, there is a swift jerk and the sound of a cracking neck that seems to echo around the room.  People cry out in terror as the Arishok paces at the top of the stairs that lead to the throne.

“Look at you.  Like fat dathrasi you feed and feed and complain only when your meal is interrupted,” he replies scornfully to the remaining crowd.  “You do not look up.  You do not see that the grass is bare.  All you leave in your wake is misery.”  He begins to shout, “You are blind!  I will make you see!”

My jaw clenches hard and I begin to make my way forward, feeling my three companions follow behind me.  The blood hums in my ears, almost drowning out the sounds around me; adrenaline beginning to course through my veins like a drug.  People step aside and the Arishok spots me.  I swear there is a smirk on his face as he continues, “But we have guests.”  As if he was expecting me.  He probably was.  “Shanedan, Hawke,” he states, making his way down the stairs towards me, “I expected you.”  And there is my confirmation.  He stops in front of me, making me look up at him, all the way up.  _Damn, he’s big_ , I think, my palms beginning to sweat. “But for all your might, you are no different from these bas.  You do not see,” he adds almost sadly.

“I see a man who is ready to start a war on principle,” I say snidely.  _Probably not the best tactic_ , I remind myself belatedly.

“And what would the Qunari be without principle,” he remarks caustically.  “You, I suspect.” 

Adrenaline surges as he begins to walk away and I smile at his back. My body comes alive with the fight or flight response.  _But I am awesome_ , I think, and manage to keep the comment to myself this time.

“Prove yourself bassara or kneel with your brethren,” he calls over his back dismissively.

Three of his guard come forward to challenge us.  I sit back in a fighting stance and then it’s like something else inside me takes control.  A feral grin splits my face and then I throw a miasma flask down and retreat into the shadows.  When they don’t spot me they aim for the others, Fenris mainly, and watching him fight is like watching a work of art come to life.  Magnificence personified.  I dip in and out of the shadows only when an opening presents itself, slashing and stabbing in vital places and just before they can spot me, I am gone.  Varric takes one out with a bolt through the eye and I want to laugh.  This isn’t even a challenge.  When the last man falls dead, the Arishok doesn’t even seem upset. 

“You are basalit-an after all.  Few in this city command such respect.  So tell me Hawke; you know I cannot withdraw.  How would you resolve this conflict?”

“There must be a way to sort this out without killing each other,” I say.

He doesn’t even hesitate with his response, “The time for words has passed.”

Fenris speaks up and says something to him in his native language that I don’t understand.  I look back at him perplexed.  He continues in Common but refuses to look at me, “You have granted this woman basalit-an.  By this admission she now has the right to challenge you.”  My eyes open wide in horror at what he is implying.  He wants me to fight the Arishok one on one.  Is he mad?

“If you truly knew the Qun, elf, you would not suggest I battle a female.”  I should be insulted by that sexist remark but I am not.  I have no desire to fight this monstrosity of a man.

“But she is no female.  She is a respected outsider, by your own words.”  I glare at him and he refuses to meet my eyes.  I am not sure if he is ashamed of what he’s done or if he actually believes I can win.  Either way, I am scared.

“What say you, Hawke,” the Arishok says, bringing my attention back to him and not the backstabbing elf behind me.  The wicked glee shines out of the Arishok’s eyes, as if he is looking forward to such a challenge.

I look back up at the Arishok, feeling my knees grow weak as sweat glistens on my brow.  “I…” and I hesitate.  My eyes flick to my companions in turn, all of them clearly concerned, except Fenris who stares back, cold and composed.  _How dare you_ , I think, livid with yet another betrayal.  Something flicks behind his eyes and he drops his gaze, hiding his face from me.  _If I live through this, I will ship you back to Minrathous myself_ , but I don’t say the words aloud.  My grip on my daggers tightens as my eyes scan all the people gathered around.  There are so many terrified faces, men, women and children, and I already know if I don’t go through with this, they will all die or be forced into the Qun.  Can I turn my back on so many, would I even if I could?  Then my eyes find a young girl, maybe seven years old clutching at her mother’s skirts, and what I see in the eyes of so many are not reflected in her own.  In her steadfast gaze I see hope, I see belief.  When she realizes I am looking back at her, she smiles.  My resolve strengths and I look back at the Arishok.

“I accept,” I say.   

His mouth splits in a sick parody of a smile making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.  He says something to his men in Qunlat that I don’t understand and his men spring into action, forming a sort of half circle around the exit.  _Ok, guess I’m not getting out until one of us is dead._ The crowd starts to exchange glances, and I see small glimmers of hope spreading through their faces.  I shake my head and start rolling my shoulders to ease the tension.  _What am I doing?  I can’t believe I am doing this.  I should abandon these people to their fate._   Let Knight Commander Meredith win the day, or First Enchanter Orsino, they would be better fitted to the task than I, certainly.   But no help is forthcoming.  I risk a glance at my companions again.  Varric smiles but I can tell it’s strained.  He is trying desperately not to show his concern but I see it in the lines around his eyes, which stand out when he is stressed.  My gaze shifts to the elf.  Fenris stands in between Varric and Merrill with that same composed, supremely confident look.  My brow furrows in consternation, he can’t be that confident I’ll win unless…unless he wants me to lose.  My heart drops down to my stomach with the realization that maybe that is what he wants?  Reading the expression on my face his demeanor shifts and he looks at me questioningly.  I am chewing the inside of my cheek raw since I can taste the coppery mix of blood in my mouth.  Then, before I can glance at Merrill, there is the faint sound of steel being drawn, forcing me to cast all other thoughts from my mind.    

The Arishok brandishes his blade in front of him, twirling the massive two handed sword with one hand as if it were a child’s toy.  My pulse is practically leaping out of my throat. _Please let him be slower than me.  Maker, please._   And then there is no time for thought because he is charging at me.

I barely manage to spin out of the way on time, momentarily coming up under his guard as we pass and I strike out, my blade slicing harmlessly across the hard wall of muscle that is his back.  He turns quicker than I think possible and I am forced to somersault out of the way of his blade again.  Cursing under my breath, I dodge two more swings, marveling at the speed of this massive creature.  _How the fuck am I supposed to beat him?_   His sword swings passed my head in a wide arc and I slash him three times in the side before getting out of the way of his return swing.  He doesn’t even wince.  Blood oozes from the wounds I have been able to inflict but they seem like mere scratches for all the attention he pays them.

_Shit!_

My only chance is to pierce something vital and hope he bleeds out before killing me, or somehow wear him down.  I retreat back ten feet only to have him give me a savage grin, as if he already knows he has won this battle.  All he needs is one mistake, and the longer we fight, the more likely it is to happen. 

I take a swipe at his neck. He slips back, just out of reach of my blade.  His massive two handed sword comes up to swipe my other blade out of the way like a stick brandished in the hands of a child.  It is be sheer training alone that I manage to keep my grip on my dagger.  If I had the time, I might smile at the memory of all those drills of having my hands slapped with the flat of a blade finally being worth it after all.  He takes a swipe at my head in what would have been a decapitation if I didn’t move back a step.  Losing my balance for just an instant, I turn the slip into a somersault and throw a miasma flask down when I land.  The black cloud billows up, hiding me in its mists.  _That was my last flask_ , I think, _please let something come of it_.  But unlike most people, the Arishok does not swing wildly, or needlessly, he simply backs up a few steps listening intently, waiting for the cloud to disperse.  I take a few silent steps, maneuvering myself behind him and stab him in the side through the gap in his armor.  He roars and twists his body to the side, effectively jerking the dagger from my grasp.  He backs up a few steps and I watch in horrid fascination as he pulls the blade out and tosses it aside.  Then he begins to laugh and my blood turns cold.  _Oh Maker how will I win this?_

He charges at me, instead of running away, which he expects, I sprint towards him, dropping and sliding beneath his legs at the last possible moment, just missing his blade.  I take my one remaining dagger and slash the back of his knee and his gait falters, giving me just enough time to get to my discarded weapon.  I am panting heavily when I turn around to face him again.  I spare one glance at my companions who have barely moved a step, but the look on Fenris’ face that was once confident is now anxious. 

The battle continues for longer than I think either of us has stamina for and yet I am the only one who seems to show any signs of fatigue.  My healing drafts are gone and now I have no means of healing myself.  Bruised and bloody I circle him again, just missing the swing of his blade and plant a few more cuts on any openings I can find.  I’ve bloodied him more times than I can count and yet he still stands, appearing as if this were a mere sparring match.  As I dart back, I yelp in startled surprise when my foot catches on something and I fall back, getting my hands down in time only to watch his sword follow me down to impale me through the middle.  My eyes snap shut with the pain that will surely mean my death only to hear him howl with frustration.  I slowly peer out from behind closed lids to find myself encased in blinding blue light that has created a shimmering shield around my body.  Half-laughing in startled, thankful disbelief, I watch as his sword comes up and down again and again as his sword hits that barrier.  There are a few gasps from the crowd and murmured exclamations of, “she’s a mage,” but I am much too grateful at the moment to care what the consequences of this will be in the future.

Then I hear a strangled cry that makes my blood turn cold.  I turn and look as the Arishok gives up a fruitless task, to find Fenris huddled on the floor, curled into a ball.  I am looking for the source of his injury but don’t see one.  Merrill and Varric kneel to either side of him, both of them shaking their heads at my silent plea for an explanation.   With another jerk, the elf’s eyes open and he stares at me with a look of fear I have never seen on his face.  Getting to my feet, that’s when I feel it, the link of lyrium that flows out of him at a rapid rate and into me, draining him dry. 

“Fenris,” I croak.  _Maker’s Breath, what have I done._   Yet I have no idea how I have conjured this protective ward or how to make it disappear.  _Go away, go away_ , I think at the barrier in panic.  It drops, only for me to hear the enraged war cry of the Arishok behind me.  I spin around just in time to see his blade impale me through my stomach.

Searing, white hot agony engulfs me.  My hands fumble at the blade, only to be sliced again and again as I try helplessly to remove it.  Screams and cries of horror fill the room as the Arishok jerks it free of my body and I fall to the ground, curling around the wound.  My life’s blood flows thick and warm, over my hands, onto the tile as I stare across the floor at Fenris’ recovering form.  His eyes stare back at me on all fours, fully aware now of what is happening.  He mouths something at me that I can’t make out and soon it won’t matter because already white dots appear in my vision and my head feels fuzzy.  He gets up and becomes more panicked; my companions glance at him, around themselves at the building chaos, then at me, not knowing what course to take.  I know I could heal this, and in my increasingly muddled state, wonder at why I don’t.  My vision blurs, then I must pass out for a time, for when my eyes clear they come into focus on Fenris, who is now standing and fighting at the arms of my companions, Varric, Merrill and now Aveline who seemed to appear out of nowhere, to hold him back from running to me.  _That’s why_ , I think, _it would likely kill him_.  My mind drifts back to that time in the elevator shaft of Darktown where I almost bled to death and he yelled at me to _take it_ , and then I realize that this was what he was trying to say soundlessly. _Take it!_   But just as I could have then, if I give into it now, I would certainly kill him.  I hear him scream above the din, and the hoarse cries of the crowd around me.    

“Take it, Hawke!  Heal yourself!”  Just like before, that same fear resonating in his voice again, his fear for my life, just as I fear for his.  _No_ , I think to myself, for I have not the strength to say the words, _I will not take your life to spare my own_.  And he must know it for he continues to scream, not caring that the Qunari begin to surround them as they wait for him to break the code of engagement that will mean his death.  It takes a moment for that to sink in.   _He…would die for me._   And for an unbelievable moment I think I might cry, despite the agony that has dulled to a throb in my stomach.  Not much time left now, and it is almost bittersweet that I see everything so clearly and am completely helpless to act.  He never betrayed me and I am a fool to believe he ever would.  The cloud that I have been letting myself exist in clears and I see just how much I’ve been deluding myself.  And I know that even now he would willingly let me kill him if it meant my survival.  But it’s also why I can’t, why I won’t.  I am completely and irrevocably in love with this man and all of his tortured past; and I could never bear to live in a world where he did not exist.  I realize all of this just when it’s too late.  Just when I am beyond saving.  Oh Maker, look at what I have wasted.  I content myself with the thought that even if I die at least he will keep living.    

Then I hear that voice again, just at the edges of my hearing _.  If you give up now, he will die with all the others._   I frown, then try to focus around me.  Even as I lie dying, the rest of the Qunari move in around the crowd, weapons brandished and ready to cut down any who refuse to join the Qun.  _Oh_ _No._   Three of them move up behind my companions as they do all they can to keep Fenris from running out to me.  Do they see them?  Do they sense the danger?  But they seem to be too absorbed in the fight to hold Fenris back from starting an all-out battle with the Qunari than to see the threat.  A scream starts in the base of my spine and travels my up back only to get lodged in my throat.  _Turn around.  Turn around!_   I want to yell.  The three qunari guards eye me for a moment but even as their gaze drifts away I know that they already count me as dead.  Something deep down inside grows with fury at this dismissive glance.

I struggle to sit up, as Fenris fights to be freed to reach me, but my limbs don’t seem to want to move.  _Get up!_   I tell my body.  But I’ve lost too much blood and can do little more than twitch my arm.  _There must be a way_ , I tell myself _._   I close my eyes, and with what is left of my focus, I concentrate.  _How do I do this_ , I think.  _I am a mage that has no way to use her magic.  I am such a fool._    Then I hear his voice like a dream, a voice that is familiar and I know I’ve heard it before but I can’t place where.  _There is a way_ , he says.

_Note to self, never trust voices when you’re on the brink of dying_ , I remind myself.Then an image appears in my mind of someplace I have never seen.  A dark room, nearly pitch black, except for the figure that lies on a stone slab, dead.  Then the body shifts and the faint features of a man come into view and I correct my first assessment, not dead…sleeping.  I squint, trying to see this figure close up and catch only the glimpse of sharp features that I swear I’ve seen before, and then a voice resonates all around, startling me.   _Blood is life and it is death_.   _Take one and gain the other._   Riddles.  He speaks is riddles. 

My eyes open, gone is that pitch black room, and I am again staring at my hands, red with my own blood.  Blood…blood… _Take one and gain the other_ , his voice repeats.  There _is_ another way.  Blood magic. As abhorrent as the thought is, it is the only thing I have left.  _Just once_ , I think.  _Just once and never again_. But Fenris will hate me for it.  He will see it as my descent into darkness.  And maybe that will be true, but what choice do I have?  My eyes lock one more time on Fenris struggling to get to me, see my companions holding him back.  _This will be the last time you run to me_ , I think and I cast the thought aside before I fall under the crush of my sorrow. 

With what seems like a massive effort, I move my head just enough to see the Arishok, his sword sheathed, giving orders to his guards like I am already dead.   I must be on the brink because I feel reality begin to tip sideways and the pain from my wound is already gone.  _Let me guide you,_ says his soothing familiar voice again _._   Then _he_ shows me in my mind exactly what to do.  A part of me is screaming in warning, or at least I think it is, but everything is so hazy, so disjointed and almost dreamlike.  It takes everything I have left to reach out towards the Arishok, while at the same time it feels like I am a bystander to my own actions.  From somewhere the words come to my lips, words of elven, words of magic, slipping out into the air as I feel the sweet build of power in my center.  _Yes…_ both of our voices echo soundlessly in unison.  “Bleed for me,” I say in a hoarse whisper.  The Arishok stiffens as blood begins to seep from his wounds, where before there was a trickle, now there is a steady stream, flowing slowly down his body. 

He stops in midsentence and looks at his wounds, clearly perplexed.   Tendrils of power flow towards me, seeking the source of the draw.  Then I feel myself react, as if by instinct, when those coils find me and lock into my core, feeding me…and feeding _him_.  Then it is as if I am in two places at once, back in the almost pitch black room as that figure on the slab begins to toss and turn, lost in the throes of a dream; and again staring at the Arishok as the blood flows faster from his wounds.  The massive Qunari takes out a flask and chugs it down with a somewhat more alarmed expression than before.  His injuries begin to slowly close and the flask falls from his hand in relief.  

A steady stream of elven flows from my lips and I hear Fenris yell my name, “Cassie!  Don’t!”  But it is too late as the energy begins to pool in my center. I feel the connection from myself to the Arishok like a thin invisible thread.  It is almost identical to the way Fenris and I joined, the only difference being our union was one of loyalty and trust while this is one of dominance.  The Arishok fights it but somehow the connection strengthens, and suddenly I know how to end this.   In the same way I pulled the lyrium from Fenris, I now pull the blood from the Arishok.  His wounds reopen, slashes becoming deeper even as my eyes watch with a sickening sense of wonder.   The power rushes to me now and my body begins to ignite.  I close my eyes with the sensation.  People scream out in shock and I open my eyes to see there is blood coming out of his eyes, his ears and his nose.  His eyes lock with mine in undisguised horror as he realizes the error he has made.  As it puddles on the floor he falls to his knees, his face slackens, color draining from his face, and then I feel it, the very power of life, the force that lives in blood magic. It’s amazing, frightening and electrifying, the rush of life at the tips of my fingers _._ It entices and begs to be used, playing along my skin in swirls of seductive arcane energy.  I pull it _all_ inside me, realizing suddenly that I can use it to heal.  It flows faster and faster in a flood until he gags, then blood spews from his mouth.  I close my eyes, using the power to knit the organs, muscles and veins back together.  I grit my teeth with the searing pain that erupts like an inferno in my stomach.  For a moment I am aware of only one thing, the scream exploding from my mouth in anger and pain and loss, then like a drug I cannot live without, the magic fills me up and envelopes me in a soft warm cocoon of magic.  Even as I embrace this ability, I know its poisoning me, twisting me to its will.  I realize for the first time, the temptation of blood magic because even as I swear to myself I will never do this again, I know I have never felt so alive in all my life. 

My descent has already begun.

I get slowly to me feet, ignoring the gasps and whispers of blood magic.  I have eyes for only one person and that is the Arishok.  He is on his knees, face waxen, body gory with the slick sheet of blood that covers  both him and the floor in large supply.  _Die_ , I think with half maniacal glee, as his expression of fear slowly relaxes and I watch with satisfaction as the light leaves his eyes.  Releasing the magic, I watch his body crumble to the ground. 

Then the cheers begin, softy at first, but then more loudly, because even as I’ve used a revolting method to save them, they are too selfish to care as long as they get to continue their useless lives.  The Arishok was not far off in his assessment of the disease that corrupts this city.  I jerk my head once, like I’ve just been slapped.  I’ve never thought like that before.  Staring at my hands, caked with my own blood, I begin to fear what I’ve just done.  I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath.  But it does little to quell the unease _, it was the only choice I had_ , I tell myself.  _If I look back I am lost._  

Opening my eyes, I wait for the reaction of the Qunari.  They begin to pull back after their leader’s death and take this as a sign for them to leave.  I have never seen an act so uniform in its response.  No anger or reproach, just acceptance.  Looking up at my companions, I see varying degrees of relief in all their eyes, all except one.  As my gaze finds the man I love, I am not surprised to find a mixture of sadness and loss suffusing his features.  I am already lost to him.  He’s not running to me now, and I doubt he ever will again.  I sigh, and wonder if there will ever be a time that he can accept what I have done, what I am.  I’ve become the monster, and the last of my light is leaving as he turns his back on me. 

Varric looks at me and shakes his head.  “I wonder if they’ll ever be able to get the blood out of the tiles,” he says, half in jest.

Glancing back at the scene is a mistake because it looks like a grisly sadistic murder just took place here and it was by my hand.  I look at the ground, “I did what I had to.”

“That’s how it starts,” Fenris snarls.  “An excuse, a means of survival.  But the slope is slippery until one day you look back and don’t recognize the person you used to be anymore.”

“What was I supposed to do,” I hiss. “Watch you die at my feet while I sucked you dry?” 

“That would have been better,” he says and looks away, the fight in him dying.

“I’m a monster now aren’t I?” I ask him.

Varric, Aveline and Merrill all open up in protest at this but I have no ears for their pleas.  His eyes come up to meet mine momentarily and in them I see the answer.  I look away unable to bear the burden of his truth.  Even now I feel the waves of that welcoming power beckoning me back to its arms, pulling me down into the darkness.  Turning away from them all, I straighten my back, and pull my conscience back to the problem at hand.  I cannot fall now, I must take a stand.

Knight Commander Meredith enters the room followed by First Enchanter Orsino.  The looks on both of their faces vary greatly; the first is mild annoyance, probably at me having survived so intact, the later appears genuinely happy.  I smile back halfheartedly at him not really feeling like this is a victory at all, but a descent into the abyss.

Cheers of champion begin to ring around me and immediately my back stiffens _.  No…I am not a champion, not a hero, not the savior_.  _Don’t you know what I am?  What I have done?_    Varric pats my arm, looks up at me and smiles.  Merrill is grinning while Aveline appears to be accepting but not exactly happy about the means of my victory.  As for the elf, I don’t know what’s worse, having him dead or having him treat me like I’ve already embraced the darkness. 

_Ah_ , says that familiar voice from the dark, _but what is light without darkness, hope without despair_.  _We must embody all of these things or we might as well be Tranquil._

My muscles tense, his voice still ringing too loudly in my ears.  Gods.  What did I just do?  What have I just awoken?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it until after the Holidays most likely. I need a few months to get a few chapters ahead so I can go back and change things if I have to. Major musical inspiration for this one, Battle Cry by Imagine Dragons. Such a good song. Good news is I think I've got a pretty solid feel for how I want Act 3 to go. Until then let me know what you think at the latest developments. I love reading the comments.


	18. Unsteady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the Aftermath of the the Arishok battle.

It is unusual to feel so at odds with myself.  Everyone around me is relieved and happy, varying in degrees of exuberance from a quiet gratitude to uncontained excitement at the death of the Arishok.  The guilt of using blood magic gnaws at me, and yet I cannot find a fault in my reasoning.  What other means did I have?  I would not kill Fenris to heal myself, although I could have and he would have willing done so.  Logically, I recognize the reason behind my actions.  Killing a friend to heal myself is worse than killing an enemy and by default healing myself.  So the method of accomplishing the latter was different, dangerous, and outlawed throughout most of Thedas.  But was blood magic really evil if used for the right reasons?  It has its risks, and I still worry over the vision I saw, the voice I heard.  Demon or spirit or something else, it wasn’t malicious or deceitful, and that in itself was different from anything I’ve ever experienced.  It sought only to help me, and guide me, and I sensed that it needed me for something, but I know not what.  Unease coils in my gut, I am beginning to sound like Merrill, I realize with some alarm.  _Fuck._    The only thing that matters is that it provided the means to keep my friends alive, scared for my soul perhaps, but alive. 

Maker, what have I done?

My eyes flick back towards the elf as we make our slow way down the hall, a few feet from the large double doors that are now wide open.  His eyes meet mine for only a moment but I can’t hold his gaze, so I look away.  He follows behind me and I can’t help but be surprised that he is following me still at all.  There is a brief touch of my shoulder and a whisper of thanks by a passing stranger.  Cheers of “champion” clamor in my ears from numerous passersby, and I’ve been touched in some fashion more times than I can count in that past hour.  Why they would _want_ to even get close to me is a conundrum, considering I must look like I’ve just climbed out of the bowels of the Abyss.  I’m in dire need of a bath, clothes that aren’t covered in dried blood, gore, and whatever else I’ve picked up since this morning, not to mention my deteriorating mental state. 

The people have become a blur of faces, voices, cries of thanks, as person after person invades my personal space.  Even Fenris’ scowling presence has done nothing to scare them off.  I’m nodding and smiling, as I attempt to dissect the past three hours, and perhaps that is why I am caught so off guard when a small body barrels into me, throwing me backwards.  Arms flailing out, Fenris instinctively catches me, and manages to keep me partially upright.  He helps me stand and just that simple touch brings some measure of comfort because he did not recoil.  I can feel him looking over my shoulder at a small girl with a dirty face and long dark hair.  As I regain my balance, marveling at the child that clings to me, I pat her dark hair instinctively and feel the point of an ear underneath the thick mane.  My face breaks into a smile as I push the curtain of hair behind her pointed ear.  A human woman runs forward, flushed in embarrassment as she grabs her daughter’s arm, apologizing profusely. I laugh, for the first time in what feels like ages, but in reality has probably only been a day, when small bright green eyes lock onto mine, they look so much like Fenris’ eyes that for a moment I am left speechless.  _Would our child look like this?_   Then curse myself for such futile thoughts.  The little girl waves as she is being pulled away and I can’t help the small smile that pulls at my lips and wave back.

“If that little girl had a dagger you would have a nice hole in your gut right now,” Fenris says.

My smile falls. “An apt observation, as ever.”  I take a deep breath and turn to look back at him.  “So, I guess it’s a good thing that what she sees in me isn’t…monstrous?” I ask, with a tinge of sarcasm.  Without waiting for a reply, I head down the stairs.

“That isn’t what I was referring to Hawke,” he calls after me, as if I didn’t already know that.  I roll my eyes, not at him but at my own need to denigrate my actions. _Stop!_ I berate myself.

“Hawke, you aren’t a monster,” Merrill begins, as she hurries after us.  I sigh inwardly.  _Great, a voice of reason._  “Just because you conversed with a spirit and accepted its help does not automatically make you evil.”

“You are as naïve as you are ignorant,” Fenris spits at Merrill, and I can’t help but echo his thoughts. “It is a fault that will be your undoing.”

“I know what I am doing, Fenris.  Just because _you_ fear the unknown, does not automatically make it evil.  I have spoken with spirits, communed with and sought their guidance, and they have given it, freely.  Do you think I am not aware of their intentions?  Do you think I don’t protect myself against it?” the blood mage says heatedly in response.  “Our people were once powerful beyond measure, immortal and imbued with magic and I will prove it.  Not all mages are abominations waiting to happen.” 

I am taken aback by her vicious reply because it is wholly unlike the innocent and gullible perception of her that I’ve come to expect.  It is not ignorant or uneducated but driven with a need to prove herself.  As I reach the bottom of the steps I turn to watch her, eyes alight with anger as she pursues Fenris and reaches his side.  With my previous misconceptions cast aside, I see her with new eyes.  Gone is the girl we brought to Kirkwall so many years ago, and in her place stands a woman proud of her heritage regardless of what her clan or friends think of her actions. 

Varric groans as he reaches the bottom of the steps and I turn my eyes in his direction to see him rub his hand over his face.  Apparently he isn’t all that fond of the direction of this conversation.  But I find myself listening intently for the reply, curious and at the same time dreading what I may hear.  

Fenris regards the Dalish elf with distaste as he comes down the last few steps to where I stand.  “Every mage I have met believes their intention makes them pure, when in reality it just makes you easier targets.”

Not words I was hoping to hear.  The crowds automatically begin to mill around us, some casting eyes our way, while others cheer Champion as loud as possible.  Every time the word is shouted I want to cringe because I am no hero.  I am no savior.  But they have decided to dub me as thus and nothing I can do now will stop it.  So instead, I ignore them and watch the display of emotions playing of the Dalish’s face.  Merrill is annoyed, more irritated than I’ve ever seen her, in fact.  Her staff smacks the ground as she turns fully on Fenris and says, “I am not all that surprised that you would think Anders or myself so lost to darkness.”  Her head tilts as she watches his face, “But the fact that you would deem Hawke so, does.  Especially considering minutes before you were willing to sacrifice yourself for her.”  His eyes, so full of disgust, flick to mine then back to Merrill.  She continues, “What’s even more surprising is that you don’t even attempt to save her from that path.”  My blood runs cold, as my stomach turns.  “You already consider her a lost cause, claimed by some demon.  Don’t you?”

Time around me seems to slow as the tears threaten to spill from my eyes, because in his face I see the truth of her words.  I am not worth saving, not anymore.  Shaking my head once, I blink slowly causing the tears to spill over my cheeks.  Varric mumbles, “Daisy, not the time.” Words that have come too late.  I thought I was over this—I _should_ be over this.  Love is weakness.  Isn’t that what I’ve been telling myself?  But even now, the phantom pain spikes through my heart like a thousand swords. 

He doesn’t open his mouth to respond, and I don’t want to hear the reply if he does.  “Enough!” I snarl at them.  “I don’t want to hear any more about how corrupted I am or how barbaric I will become.”  His eyes find mine, and in them I see the sadness of loss and suddenly I’m angry.  Because if he cared about me at all, the way everyone else seems to think he does then he would fight for me, just as I would fight for him regardless of the circumstances.

His eyes drift to the ground as his voice, hollow and resigned says, “I think it would be best if I left.”  Then, he turns and a moment later gets lost in the crowd.

Losing it in a fit of anger and sobs would be an easy thing to do now.  I am beginning to think I am cursed to lose those that I love.  Swallowing hard, I regard my two friends.  Merrill is staring after Fenris as if she could burn holes into his back.  Varric just sighs heavily.

“Well, you had to expect something along those lines.”  He shakes his head.  “He’ll get over it.”

I snort, burying deep the emotions that threaten to take over.  “Blood magic,” I ask.  It’s my turn to shake my head now.  “I don’t see that happening.  Ever.” 

“Hawke, you’re not giving yourself enough credit!” the dwarf says simply.  “He’s loyal to you.  Not me, Aveline, or anyone else. Just _you_.”

I frown, not wanting to believe his words.  Not because I don’t wish for it to be true, but because it would hurt too damn much if he happens to be wrong.  A thought whispers through me, _it is better this way._ I close my eyes, feeling the calm filter through my being.  “Yes, better this way.”  I open my eyes to see Merril staring at me wide eyed as if I’ve just magically grown three heads.  “What?” I ask.

“You just…” She tilts her head and her eyes narrow.  “You are as stubborn as he is.”

Varric gives us both a look of confusion and I wonder why.  I nod slightly to Merrill, admitting that it might be true. “Perhaps.”

Her eyebrow arches on one side. “How long have you known elven?” she asks.

The question takes me aback, “Huh?”

Clearly the surprise on my face speaks the truth for the dwarf’s expression changes to concern.  “Shit, she’s speaking a different language and doesn’t even know it?  Definitely not a good sign.”

“You spoke it a number of times during the course of the day.  In the courtyard with Orsino, in the battle with the Arishok and just now.”

I shake my head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I just said to you, ‘you are as stubborn as he is,’ in elven and you answered me.”

I laugh a little as if she’s going crazy.  “You must be mistaken,” I say, grasping for the calm that flowed through me only an instant before but has now fled.  I didn’t speak elven, I don’t know elven.  I shake my head violently and back up a step. 

“Ma serenas,” she says, clearly picking up on the anxiety that has spiked through me. 

“I don’t…I didn’t understand that.” I say, relief clear in my voice, although from her cadence I am guessing its some form of apology.

Now they look at me perplexed and slowly an idea seems to dawn on the elf’s features for her expression changes and she says, “This spirit you spoke with, how did you find it?”

“I… didn’t contact…him,” I say, stumbling through the words. “He found me.”

“Oh, it has a gender?” Varric asks with interest. “Do tell.”

My lips purse with the welcome change of subject and I shake my head, “I don’t know how I know, I just know.  He showed me what I needed to do to kill the Arishok, and then…heal myself.”

“And the elven?” the dalish mage asks.  “How did you know the elven terms?”

I hesitate as the direction of her thoughts become clear.  “His words,” I reply.

They stare at me for a few moments.  “Wait, are you trying to tell me a demon, spirit or whatever, told you how to cast the spell in elven.  Why would it use elven, don’t demons have their own damn language?  Everything else does.”  Varric asks, pulling my attention to him.

I shrug.  “I’m not sure.”

“The words are just a focus, so whatever _demon_ you’ve communed with uses elven,” Merril intones.  Having heard similar things from Fenris on magic, I believe her.  “I’m not sure why it would use that language when it isn’t a language you’re familiar with.  The spirit I contact speaks to me thus since it is my native tongue.  Why it would choose to speak to you in this manner is…telling.”

“So it’s possible it isn’t a demon?” I ask, hopefully.

“The bigger question is, if it wasn’t a demon or a spirit, then what is it?” she says.

All of us become silent for a moment at this disturbing train of thought. 

“I’m not certain I want to know,” I say.  My jaw clenches as I am again forced to justify my actions to myself.  I couldn’t let my friends die, I couldn’t let Fenris die, and at the time I honestly didn’t think I’d be living through the fallout.  It was a way to make sure they all survived without having to join the Qun.  My intentions were good, noble even, so why does that still make my actions bad?  My mind churns as I am again faced with a ghost of my past—what was it my father always said? “Evil deeds are often disguised with the best intentions.”  I find myself frowning because I can’t understand how it could be bad.  “Perception is not reality,” those are my words, my beliefs, and I will be damned if I am going to let someone’s perception of my actions dictate the kind of person I am.  My back straightens as I commit to accept what I’ve done.  I will have no more regrets over this, no more guilt, and I will gladly pay back the debt that is owed for Fenris’ life.

Merrill is holding her staff in one hand and looking off, deep in thought. Sensing my attention, she speaks, “When was the first time you spoke with this…” she pauses for the right word, then gets irritated at her own lack of characterization, “this being?”

“Not before today,” I reply instantly, although even as I say it something nags at me, like an eerie sense of déjà vu telling me that this isn’t true.  My brow knits in concentration as I try to recall where I’ve heard his voice before because somehow I know today wasn’t the first time,  “Wait that’s not right,” I amend quietly, shaking my head as I try harder.  The memory is there, but somehow just out of reach, as if I am trying to hold onto smoke.  “He has spoken to me before but…” My thoughts begin to arrange themselves then unexpectedly a sharp pain erupts behind my eyes, “Ahh!” I scream, grabbing my temples and closing my eyes as my forehead throbs like it might explode into my hands.  Hearing the mingled cries of worry and surprise from my companions as I’ve somehow ended up on my knees, their hands trying to help, as they ask me what’s wrong.  When the pain dulls to a manageable ache and I am able to open my eyes to slits, I have the odd sense that I’ve lost something.  Blinking a few times, I try to focus _.  What were we talking about_ , I wonder.  And from their concerned expressions, and repeated questions to my well-being I know I’ve scared them. Rising to my feet a little shakily, my hands drop to my sides in confusion as the pain slips away as if it was never there in the first place. I look again at my companions, hesitating, waiting for my memory to return. 

Nothing.

“I’m sorry, that- whatever that was, distracted me.  What were we talking about?” I ask.

Merrill's eyes widen, while Varric curses under his breath.  I glance at the both of them in turn, expecting some kind of explanation, all the while feeling something isn’t right. 

“Shit, Hawke, you’re beginning to scare me.  I think maybe you need to go home and rest.  Taking out the Arishok has earned you the right.”

“I…” I pause, confused, “Yes, that might be best.”  

From the corner of my eye I see another noble headed our way, his eyes intent on me.  My gaze flicks his way and whatever he sees there must deter him for he quickly changes course.  My palms are beginning to ache from the small half-moon circles that have formed from my fists clenching so tightly.  Energy whispers along my skin, familiar and welcome, recognizing the feel, I turn looking for the man that I know carries it.  A relieved smile lights my face as I scan the crowd.

“Anders is coming,” I say.

The dwarf glances at me oddly before scanning the crowd around us, searching.  “Good to know Blondie made it out in one piece.” Varric mutters.  “But I don’t see him.”

My body relaxes at the mages calming touch, then as if on cue he appears around the corner instantly spotting me in the courtyard.  Tendrils of potency coil around him, calling to my own as I find myself walking forward to meet him. 

“How did you know he was coming?”  Varric asks, slightly hesitant, following. 

I smile as Anders walks towards me, then flick my glance to the dwarf and reply without thinking, “His magic, it feels familiar.”

Varric grumbles to himself, “Oh right, of course, magic.”  Snorts to himself then falls behind as my pace picks up.

Anders is a little worse for wear, robe torn in various places, a small cut on one cheek but otherwise appears unharmed.  I feel my smile widening when the distance closes and his arms embrace me, enfolding me in their warmth. 

“Are you ok?” I ask.

He chuckles and pulls away to look down at me.  “I might ask you the same question _, Champion_.”  I stiffen at the title and he feels it.  Shaking his head at my reaction, he smiles and pushes my hair, that must be little more than a rat’s nest at this point, behind one ear.  “They honor the one that saved them.  And you did save them.  All of them.”

I pull away completely, watching the brief play of emotions over his face.  He desires me still just as my arms ache to close that distance again, wanting their acceptance.  “If you’ve heard the name they have given then perhaps you have heard the means by which it was accomplished as well.”

His brow furrows at my words, “I’ve heard a few stories that I’ve discounted as hearsay since I know you.  Why?”  Then his eyes widen as he makes the connection. “Blood magic,” he says, truly horrified, “Maker… why?”

The guilt rocks me again and I shove it down.  _It isn’t wrong, perception is not reality_ , I tell myself again.  _He will accept it, or he will leave_.  I meet his eyes without faltering, feeling his tension begins to rise, like a furnace radiating heat.  Justice peaks out of the corner of his eyes, as they show a bright blue, but Anders has him under control.  _Please don’t leave me too._   I explain in calm concise tones the reasons for my actions, leaving out my realization of just how much I loved the elf, because it would serve no purpose other than to hurt him.  He has been abhorrently against the use of blood magic for as long as I’ve known him, so I could only imagine now the mixture of emotions he must be feeling, because I was fighting the same.   

When I am done, the mage looks at my companions behind me, acknowledging them for the first time.  “It would have been better if you let Fenris sacrifice himself.” 

I take a step back from him, completely disgusted with his comment.  He has never liked Fenris that is no secret.  But I do expect him to show some restraint if not respect. “Look, I know you don’t like Fenris...”  He snorts and crosses his arms over his chest, as if this was the understatement of the year.  Narrowing my eyes, I regard him coolly.  “And I am not asking you to, however,” my voice grows hard, “I absolutely will not tolerate you disrespecting him in front of me.  Everything will be fine if you keep your hostile opinions about Fenris and me to yourself.  He is no threat.  To Anyone.”

“Except maybe slavers, demons, and blood mages from Tevinter,” Varric supplies helpfully.

Anders stares back at me hard, and then grudging nods assent.  I sigh and look at my feet, “I hope you are wrong about that last part, Varric.”

“Well, last I checked you weren’t from Tevinter, Hawke,” he says. “Unless, of course, there’s something you’re hiding from me.”

I smile softly at his remark.  “No, not that I know of.”

“He wouldn’t hurt her even if she were,” Merrill pipes up, who had been quietly watching the whole exchange up until now. “Anyone can see how much he adores her, despite his current uneasiness with her actions.”  I almost make a disgusted sound at that reserved description of uneasiness.  “Do you know how hard it was for us to hold him back from running to her when she was fighting to survive the Arishok?  He may not agree with blood magic, but he will go to the Abyss and back to keep her safe.”

I frown, not sure if I agree with such an over exaggeration of the elf’s true feelings.  She is being hopeful and naïve.  Rubbing my eyes, a memory of my sister’s voice stops the motion.  _Or maybe you are just being pessimistic_.  My hands drop to my sides and I cast the memory away.  No I’m not.  I’m being realistic.  Right?    

Varric and Merrill both look on with optimism.  “Alright, I’m heading back to see if I still have a place to live after all of this.  Would you like to walk back with me, Daisy?  I know you didn’t have time to get the string.”

Merrill brow contorts in confusion. “String…what are you—?” then it must dawn on her for her demeanor shifts and she smacks him and admonishes, “Varric, I have not needed that string since our first year here.  I do walk out my door every once in a while.”

The dwarf puts both hands up in surrender and laughs, “Ok. Ok, just thought I’d offer.”   He looks to me again, “Get some rest Hawke.  You’ve earned it.”  The pair of them walk away in the direction of Lowtown while Anders stands idle at my side.

“Right, rest,” I mutter.  I don’t even remember when the last time I’ve managed some decent sleep was, the nightmares always come.  Fear spikes as I think about the implications of what I’ve done and what could possibly happen if I sleep now.  Will I be pulled into the Fade like Feynriel, not knowing I’m living a nightmare?  Will demons compete for my soul, fight to possess me as they did him?  My vision blurs as my heartrate takes up a quick staccato rhythm. 

Anders palm cups my cheek, tilting my head up to make eye contact with him.  “Hawke?” he asks apprehensively.  My body takes on a mind of its own as I wrap my arms around his waist pulling him tight against me.  Head cradling against his chest, listening to the slow steady rhythm of his heartbeat, I let out a shaky breath.  His arms circle securely around me, as that small trickle of arcane energy beats against my core, familiar and safe.  Again, I find myself trying to find a shred of sanity in his arms.  He gives himself to me again and again, as a place of solace, as place of stability.  His hands graze up and down my back in a movement of comfort, and I suddenly feel so very lucky to have him.  Closing my eyes, I let that security envelop me fully.  I’m not sure how long we stand like that, whether its seconds, minutes or hours but eventually I release my death grip around him and look up into his face.

“Will you stay with me?” I ask in a moment of weakness.  “Please.”

He appears a little startled at my request but then a small smile forms on his lips and he nods in acquiescence.  We head to my front door, and I knock until Bohdan cracks the door enough to see me standing there.  He pulls the door all the way back, the dwindling light of dusk making his face appear pale and drawn, although he smiles in reassurance when he sees the pair of us.  

“Ancestors preserve me, I am glad to see your face.”

I smile back at him, “As am I Bohdan, as am I.”

We make our way past him into my foyer, which is alight with candles to combat in the dimness of sunset.  When Sandal sees me, I am waiting for his ever persistent question of “Enchantment?” but instead I get a look of confusion as his eyes go distant and glassy. 

His voice, which until today I’ve only ever heard say one word, takes on a peculiar prophetic tone as he says, “One day the magic will come back, all of it.  Everyone will be just like they were.  The shadows will part and the skies will open wide.  When he rises, everyone will see.”   

I stare at the young dwarf trying to put together his words.  His father walks in exclaiming, “Sandal, my boy, what happened?”

His eyes clear and the simple expression, I am so used to him wearing, reappears.  “Enchantment?” he asks, as if nothing happened.

Puzzled, I shake my head, “Um no.  I’m good.  Thanks”

He smiles back but doesn’t say a word in reply.  More disturbed that I would like to admit, I head up the stairs to my room with Anders following close behind.

“What was that all about?” he asks.  “One day the magic will come back?  I wasn’t aware it was even gone.” 

We reach the top of the stairs and enter my room.  “Maybe he was referring to the Tranquil?” I suggest, trying to push every intruding thought of the last eight hours out of my head.  Just as those words pass my lips I am reminded of another voice speaking to me.  _We must embody all of these things or we might as well be Tranquil._   My face contorts with worry.  What am I becoming?

“Possibly, and who is the _he_?” Anders asks curiously. 

I shrug, barely holding it together.  Considering Sandal said _he_ and not _she_ , does bring me a small measure of comfort.  Because it couldn’t possibly be anything I do.  Right?

Bending over, I start undoing the laces of my boots then pause in disgust when dried blood starts to come off in a dark cloud of flakes and dust from the laces, my clothes and even my hair.  “Son of a whore,” I swear, as the small amount of stability I have left starts to give way.  So much blood, I’m covered in it, coated from my neck all the way down to my feet.  How the fuck did this happen?  Chaos and violence erupting together like a great volcano until only the ash of the living is left.  But what’s next?  How long could this peace possibly last without a Viscount, without anyone to bring a sense of calm to the madness that has begun?  Anders grabs both my hands in his, they are trembling so badly that I’ve stopped trying to take off my boots.  He makes me stand and guides me over to the only chair in my room, pushing me gently to sit down.  I don’t resist. 

“What have I done Anders?  I feel like I’m going mad.” My voice cracks under the strain and the trembling becomes worse.

Kneeling in front of me, he rubs both of my hands in his own as they lay in my lap.  In a tone as soothing as the sea, he says, “You have saved this city from a fate worse than death.”

He stares at me for a moment, seeing if I am going to accept his statement.  But I can’t.  I just can’t.  It’s always something in this forsaken city.  “And for what? The next group of monsters that decides they want to come in and try to tear this city apart.  I don’t even know what I’m fighting for anymore.  My entire family is dead.  I’ve been betrayed by those closest to me more times than I can count. And now I’ve used blood magic.”  The horror of that last statement finally begins to set in.  I can rationalize this all I want with my reasons and practicality, but the truth of the matter is I’ve listened to a voice, belonging to Maker only knows what, and completed a ritual that I swore I would never do.  After seeing what blood magic can do to people, how it can twist and change them, I still did it.   I’ve actually used blood magic to kill an enemy in the most horrendous way possible and heal myself.  Revulsion twists in my gut and I want to curl into a ball and hide from the world.

The mages hands fall from my mine to clasp the outside of my thighs.  His hazel eyes flash blue before turning back again.  Justice is watching me as well, I realize, his gaze burrows into my own and demands my attention.  “Do not give up.  Not now.  You are stronger than anyone I have ever met.  We need you.”

I throw his hands away and stand up, making him fall back.  “Don’t you get it!?” I yell.  “Do you realize what I’ve done?  What could happen?  I’ve denied and blocked out my past better then Fenris but I did it by choice!  Do you realize how fucked up that is!?”

He sits back on his heels watching me pace the room.  “Cassie, what is going on in that head of yours right now?”

I catch sight of myself in the mirror and stare in horror.  Whatever I thought I looked like after this whole ordeal doesn’t come close to the reality of it.  My hair is matted and caked in blood and dirt, my clothes torn in so many places that there is no saving them, even if I could get all the blood stains out.  _And a little girl hugged me_ , I think in disgust.  No wonder the mother was embarrassed and mortified.  I start tearing the clothes off and throwing them onto the ground in a pile, tears pouring down for no apparent reason, until I am nearly naked aside from my undergarments.  I stare at myself, the skin around my midsection is nearly shining with exuberance and health where in fact there should be one massive scar.  But then something else hits me as well, as I notice a flaw in my reflection.  I stare at the place on my knee where there should be a scar from my childhood.  It’s…gone.  The more I look, I realize all my scars have been erased from the curse, all but one.  The pink tranquility scar on my collarbone is the only mar on my now perfect skin.  I stare at it in the mirror, as if it will start glowing or whispering or something equally frightening. 

Why is it that I cry more than I laugh now?  There was a time when I was happy, and laughed easy, and picked fights with Fenris, told jokes with Varric, and sang for the joy it brought me.  I don’t even remember now the last time I sang.  Bethany, how I could use your guidance now.

I’m not sure how long I stand there before Anders comes up behind me and I realize I’ve somehow forgotten he was here.

“I…” and I falter, unable to explain my current state. 

“Come on,” he says quietly, pulling me away to the bathroom.  I’ve had Orana start a bath for you.  I’m sure it’s ready now.”

I look at him confused. I must have been staring at the mirror longer than I thought.  “Okay” I say, and my voice sounds small, and weak.

The tub is steaming and the candles are flickering, lighting the room in a beautiful candescence.  Bath oils line the edge of the tub at my disposal.  Anders leaves my side, takes off his shoes, closely followed by his robe as he tosses them on an empty chair.  When his shirt comes off and all that remains is his pants my skin flushes at what he may intend.  The muscles of his back ripple under his skin as he takes three of the bath oils and pours a small amount into the tub, swirling them into the water with one hand.  A scent that reminds me of my childhood home slowly fills the room.  Images of our family gathered together laughing and content fill my mind.   A happier time.  A simpler time.  The mage walks back towards me and I find myself opening my mouth to stop him.

“Anders you don’t have to--”

“Hawke, let me take care of you.  Just once.”

There must be something in the way he looks at me, so innocent of purpose for my refusal dies on my lips.  I am still unsteady and unsure of so much, my own judgment in particular.  He watches me for a moment, before pulling me in the direction of the water.  He is careful not to hold me too tightly so I can resist at any time.  When I get to the edge of the tub, I stare down into the water apprehensively.  He quickly rolls his pants up to above his knees and I feel a small measure of relief as there is clearly nothing underneath.   He steps into the water, sits on the edge of the tub, and puts his hand out for me to hold onto as I enter.  I hesitate, knowing that if I were to turn around and run away now, somehow he wouldn’t be mad at me, he would just leave and let me be.  But I don’t want to be alone, not now, and I do need to get clean.  Without another word, I take his hand and step into the tub, not bothering to remove my undergarments.    

The water quickly turns a ghastly color as the dirt and blood on my skin dissolves away.  My legs curl into my chest as I find myself cradled in the fetal position with my chin resting on my knees.  I don’t say anything and neither does Anders as he takes a cloth from the side of the tub, rubs soap into it and begins to wash my back. He avoids the breast band and the edge of my undergarments surreptitiously as he washes my body and I feel myself relax.  He is treating me like one of his patients, compassionate, caring, without expectation of repayment and I begin to see him under a light I’ve never seen before.  No wonder the people of Lowtown are so protective of him, he cares for them so loyally.  

I stare at him as he continues to wash me.  When he finishes my arm, he feels my stare and raises an eyebrow at me inquisitively. 

“Why are you doing this?” I ask.

  His brow furrows at my question.  “Do I need to have an ulterior motive?”

“Umm…” I hesitate, “No, I suppose not.”

He takes a large cup from the side of the tub, fills it with water, then tilts my head back to pour it onto my hair.  Taking more of the soap into his hands, he builds up a thick lather, sets the soap aside and begins to massage my scalp.  My eyes close as a sigh escapes my lips.  I’ve never had anyone wash my hair before, well except for my parents when I was little of course, and the sensation is completely disarming.  I feel my body slowly begin to uncurl as I lean against his legs securing my arms around them.  When the water pours over my head again I tilt my head back and my mouth opens slightly in elation as the soap is washed out of it. 

After he does this a number of times, he begins to squeeze the excess water out of my hair and I open my eyes to find his face inches from mine.  I don’t know what makes me do it, whether it is the amount of care he takes to not make me uncomfortable or just his complete lack of motive other than to make me feel human again but without thinking, my free hand comes out of the water, wraps around the back of his neck and pulls his mouth down to mine.  I feel his surprise as my lips brush his but then his hand comes up to gently cradle my head as he begins to press against my mouth more firmly. 

His breath hitches in his throat as he reluctantly breaks away.  His eyes are closed as he sighs with a need for more.  I begin to rise out of the water to my knees, hands coming up to comb through his hair as I find myself wanting this so badly, to feel loved, wanted and accepted for all that I am, all that I’ve done.  His eyes open, so full of need that it is painful to see.  I pull him towards me as my breasts press firmly into his knees.  His hands grasp my forearms making me pause in mid-motion with their reluctance.

“I can’t do this to you.  Not when you are so fragile.  If you want me, I need you to want all of me, not just as a way of hiding from the pain,” he says.

It hurts me in a way I don’t expect.  I cringe away from him, wrapping my arms around my knees again in an effort to conceal myself. 

“I want you more than you will ever know and you have no idea how much pain this is causing me to push you away. “

“Then don’t,” I say, looking back up at him.

His breath shudders and he closes his eyes.  “Maker knows, I would give you everything regardless of what you may or may not feel for me, but I won’t take advantage of you.  Not with your emotions riding you so fully.” 

I find myself wanting to be angry with him for rejecting me yet again but not being able to.  He doesn’t push me away to protect himself, he keeps his distance to spare me the pain of regret.  I want to cry, because I do want him but I also know that if I were to go through with it he could be right, and I would never forgive myself. 

His legs exit the tub.  He stands, unrolls his pant legs, grabs a towel and holds it up in front of him.  I stand, feeling the water cascade down my skin in tiny rivulets.  I hear his intake of breath and when I glance at him he is looking away discretely.  I look down and realize my undergarments are no longer providing any kind of concealment.  I step out, no longer caring at this point what he has seen.   Walking over, I turn my back to him and the towel is draped carefully over my shoulders.  I adjust it under my arms the secure it in front of my chest.  Turning back around to face him, I see his need unchecked before he can look away. 

Placing a careful hand on his check, I rise on tiptoes and place a kiss against his cheek. 

“Thank you,” I whisper.

The lopsided smile I love breaks over his face as he says, “Anytime.”

He follows me into the bedroom and turns his back while I get changed into something I can sleep in.  A large white tunic and a clean undergarment seem sufficient.  I toss the wet clothes aside, pull on the clean ones and then crawl into the clean sheets. 

“You can turn around now.”

He turns and makes his way towards the empty seat that is close to my bed.  I grab his hand as we walks by.  He pauses, and the reluctance is back in his eyes again. 

“Will you just lay with me?   You don’t need to do anything.  I just…I just want to feel…loved, even if it’s a lie.”

He nods and I move over, laying back on the pillow as he peels the sheets back to lay down next to me.  I turn my back to him and I feel his body curl around mine protectively.  His hand drapes over my waist and I can feel his breath on my back as he cuddles in closer to me.  I ease into him and begin drifting off after all the exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours takes its toll, secure in the fact that he will keep the nightmares at bay while I sleep.  Just when I’m being pulled under I hear him mumble “It would never be a lie,” and then I am lost in dreams.   

 **…**     

I wake up suddenly and it takes me a few moments to identify the arm this is still draped over my side.  I don’t move and do my best not to change my breathing.  Something woke me and I don’t know what.  I listen to the silence of the room, not hearing anything out of place.  As the silence stretches for a long period of time I start to relax again but still feel like something is off.  W _hy do I feel like I am being watched?_   After listening longer with nothing seeming out of place, I give up and close my eyes.  Whatever is was can wait until morning and I adjust myself more securely into Anders’ arms.  He cradles me more tightly against him in his sleep and I feel the smile form on my lips.  Just as I’m drifting off again, in that in-between spot where reality and dreaming mingle together, I feel a flare of power that I recognize, and I know who was watching me.    

 

 

 

 

     

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with this. I know its been a long interlude and I hope not to repeat it. This chapter was a pain in the ass. I can't even tell you how many times I've rewritten it because I didn't know where I wanted it to pick up from, three years hence, a few weeks, hours or what. Took a while to figure that out, so much so that it required me to take a break a few times just to rethink it. So I'm pretty happy with the result. The end was unexpected but just seemed to pour out of its on accord. Hope you all enjoyed it. Let me know what you think. Until next time...which I hope is sooner rather than later


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